


Aozora

by Smashing_Successor



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, 天気の子 | Tenki no Ko | Weathering with You
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Marihilda Week (Fire Emblem), Rain, Sky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:34:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22312588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smashing_Successor/pseuds/Smashing_Successor
Summary: Hilda runs away from home to find her little piece of the sky.A "FE Three Houses/Weathering With You" crossover AU
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 17
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

Most of the answers in Hilda's inbox are spam and super unhelpful. Figures that's what she gets for asking the internet for help.

_No way, not without an ID_

_Lol nbdy gonna hire a minor even if ur 16 r u stupid lolololol_

_Stay in school kiddo_

_Sex worker_ _always an option just saiyan_ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 

She deletes every single message except the last one, mainly because it makes her snort and choke on her last fry. It's stupid and crass, but hey, she'll take her chuckles where she can get them, especially now that her money's practically run dry. That last milkshake is what did her wallet in, and maaaan does she regret it now, but it's the third night in a row she's camped out at this 24 hours McDonald's, and if she has to have just french fries for dinner AGAIN her stomach's going to scream, and she's going to scream along with it. 

And now all this thinking is making her head hurt. With a sigh, she lays her head down on the greasy table. She'll deal with the zits tomorrow. Or never. Whatever comes first. 

It shouldn't be this freaking hard for a girl to find a freaking job that isn't a sex worker or sweatshop slave in Garreg Mach. It's the largest city on Fodlan for crying out loud. It's supposed to be the city where dreams come true, according to all the movies and tv shows she's binged. Or, more specifically, the city where _her_ dreams were supposed to come true. Far far away from the boring countryside, far away from parents who don't care and an obsessive brother who cares too much. 

It was supposed to be the one place where it didn't feel like she was _suffocating_. 

Instead, all she feels is balls to the walls tired. And wet. Ugh, does it ever stop raining in Garreg Mach? She's sick to death of the feeling of moist, squelchy socks. And being the genius that she is, she's only got the one pair because genius over here thought she'd be rolling in the cash within the first day and she'd have enough dough to buy all the socks she wanted. 

Ha. Hillarious. She can't even buy tic-tacs with the change left rolling around at the bottom of her purse. 

The pressure behind her eyes is killing her, and it sucks. Everything sucks. She's tired. She hungry and cold and sick, and it sucks, the rain sucks, Garreg Mach sucks, and all she wants to do is just _breathe._

Even if it feels like she's drowning in the rain.

"Um... e-excuse me...?" 

Hilda's never lifted her head faster from a table and ahhhhhh, crap, sudden bright lights, that's just great for her headache, yeah, thanks. 

"Look, I bought some stupid fries so you can't kick me out, I'm a customer." 

So maybe Hilda's feeling a little crabby, but it's been three days since her last warm shower, and she feels sticky and uncomfortable and gross, so whoever the poor sap is, they're just going to have to _deal_. 

Said poor sap turns out to be a poor underpaid fast-food worker who flinches back at the harsh tone in her voice. 

"Uhm, n-no, that's f-fine," she stammers out, looking one stiff breeze away from keeling over herself. Seriously, Hilda could probably use the circles beneath her eyes as a sleeping bag. "I-I'm s-sorry, I didn't- y-you looked, uhmm, asleep... and I didn't know how to w-wake you and... and...umm, w-well..." 

The girl sets the carton down on the table. Big Mac. Smells delicious. Hilda would know. She's been in here long enough that she's gained the ability to differentiate a quarter pounder from a grilled chicken from smell alone. Life skills to keep.

"I can't pay for this." It physically hurts to say. Hilda can just imagine her stomach crying big fat tears right now, screaming in the way stomachs do when she has to tell it NO. 

But the girl just shakes her head, a few strands of blue hair slipping out of her untidy braid. She tucks them behind her ear, but they end up falling out again. She doesn't notice. 

"On the house. You looked like you could use a... umm... a pick-me up." 

Hilda blinks. This coming from the girl who looks like one slip away from a trip to the ER. Carefully, she pops the carton open. Candid Camera may have been a decade ago, but YouTube prank compilations are still alive and kicking, even in this day and age. Besides, hidden cameras nowadays can get pretty small without sacrificing their resolution, even if they have to be packed in between two slices of lettuce and a sad excuse for a tomato. 

But there's nothing. No secret camera, no hidden audience, and no laugh track playing in the background as the joke to her life. Just plain old burger from what she can tell. 

Well, even if it's a joke, it's a pretty weak one because a free burger is still a free burger, so, whatever. 

"Thanks. I owe you one." 

But when Hilda looks up, the girl is already gone. 

Ooookay. A little rude, to be honest. But then again, not like Hilda's been the queen of hospitality lately, and also, free Big Mac. So, whatever. 

She takes a bite, and it's not an understatement to say that it's the best damn burger she's ever tasted in her life because it is honestly the _best damn burger she's ever tasted in her life._ If her stomach had tear ducts, they'd be overflowing right now. 

_Thank you, underpaid burger girl, I'll never look down on the fast food industry ever again._

Some of the sauce dribbles down her chin. Ugh, grossssss. But the napkins are at the other end of the McDonalds, meaning she has to get up and feel her socks squelch in her shoes. Extra gross. Maybe there's like, a spare tissue left or something in her purse. She reaches down into her purse, unclasping it.

She rifles around. Stick of gum, her phone, tube of lipstick that's cracked in half, so now it's just a tube of trash or a $50 rose-gold highlighter, take your pick. And a business card. 

Business card? Curious, she takes it out, holding it up to the cheap LED lights.

**_Cichol and Co. Editorials_ **

**_Our business is in faith itself_ **

**_For all business inquiries, please contact us at..._ **

Oooooh riiiiight. The memory of nearly drowning on the ship to Garreg Mach floats up in Hilda's mind. Honestly, the only reason she isn't fish food right now is because of that one guy with the stern-ish face who was quick enough to grab her hand and stop her from capsizing straight into the ocean. 

And then had the balls to lecture her for a good twenty minutes afterward on the "improper length of your skirt" and "the propriety of the Saints" or something like that. Honestly, she only took his business card to shut him up because, really, who cares about the last five centimeters. Absolutely no one, that's who.

She stares at the card for a moment longer. Spins it in her hand. Some of the ink smudges off on to her fingers.

Hilda sighs. She swipes open her phone and begins typing the numbers into the keypad. 

So maybe Garreg Mach isn't the city of her dreams. Not yet anyway. It'll take some work before it can be, which sucks but, eh. She can be a big girl about it. 

For now. 

"Hi, is this, uh... Misssssssster Seteth? Am I saying that right? Oh good. This is Hilda Goneril, the girl from the ship, do you remember? Yep, yeah that's me. Ha, well, sorry to say, but the jeans are temporary. Rest assured, once it gets warmer, I'm switching back to what's in style!"

Hilda glances out the window. Raindrops softly pelt the window, scattering into a dozen little paths that all lead to the same place in the end.

_Some dreams are worth working for._

"Anyway, I was wondering if your offer still stands...?" 

\--- 

So maybe working for a small (read: practically nonexistent) online news agency with a focus on faith-based miracles (read: really crappy magic tricks, like, seriously who even falls for the detachable thumb thing in this day and age) isn't _exactly_ close to her actual dream of starting up her own personal artisan store. Heck, it might as well be drifting away in the sky with how freaking far away it is. 

But a girl's gotta eat before she can dream big and at the very least, working for Seteth means three meals a day, a roof over her head to shield her from the rain (which still hasn't stopped, _c'mon,_ it's been months) and most importantly, access to a hot shower. 

(The first time Seteth showed her to the shared bathroom in the back of the agency, Hilda nearly cried. And then she took a shower so long that it racked up the water meter high enough that Seteth snapped it was coming out of her first paycheck. 

Still totally worth it. )

At least the work is pretty easy and straightforward. Get tip, go to interview, and then write about whatever the sucker claims they saw on their way to good ol' Saint Seiros. Usually, it's a light at the end of a tunnel or a chorus of angelic voices or blah blah blah. Hilda's personal favorite is the one guy who swore the afterlife was just a big dark room with a little green gremlin that judged all his life choices like a disappointed mother. Sounds legit enough.

Too bad the novelty pretty much wears off in the first ten minutes. Thank goddess for Mercedes. Hilda likes her well enough. She's sweet, with a personality that reminds Hilda of cotton candy. A bit spacey. Has the patience of all four saints combined, which is _great_ because it means the people ramble to Mercedes and not Hilda. She _hmms_ and _ahas_ in all the right places, and Hilda can just pretend to take notes on her phone and browse Etsy for inspiration on new trinket ideas.

It's a win-win for everyone. 

"So, where to next?" 

Mercedes fiddles with the company car's radio, landing on a channel that's playing something very loud, very thrashy. She puts the volume to a bearable level and bobs her head along to the screaming, smile pleased as punch. 

Hilda locks her phone. "Hmmm... Early lunch?" she ventures forth brightly, because hey, you miss 100% of the shots you don't take. 

Mercedes flashes her a patient smile, one that says, _I respect you for trying, I really do._

"I thought we could get a headstart on our next story. You know the one Seteth was talking about in the morning. The sunshine maiden." She drops her voice down a pitch, putting on the world's silliest impression of their boss. "Legends say she's still brightening up the sky even to this day." 

Which means driving across Garreg Mach in their pillbox of a car and listening to some old coot ramble on about a local legend that Hilda could care less about. Yeah. Definitely sounds like a fun way to spend a lazy, rainy afternoon. 

"I mean, we could. Buuuuuuuuuuut, and hear me out, we could also go to Byleth's and pick up some of those scones we like so much, eh, eh?"

"You can't keep using my girlfriend as an excuse to get free pastries, you know that, Hilda." 

Hilda's about to reply when something catches her eyes. 

A flash of blue. Shoulders hunched in a blue hoodie that's two sizes too big for her. Eyes that look like death warmed over. 

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." Hilda clicks off her seatbelt, kicks open the door because it sticks and usually needs to be shown some tough love before it does anything. "Look, I gotta..." she wrestles the umbrella out of her purse and opens it. "I gotta go. I'll meet up with you there. Just, text me the address or something." 

"Wha- Hilda, it's literally on the opposite side of the city! Where are you- Hilda!" 

\--- 

Tailing some, as it turns out, is way easier in the movies. At least in the movies, the camera pans to where the bad guys are going. And there's not a bucketful of rain to obscure the camera lenses. Seriously, she might as well be walking through a waterfall with how hard it's coming down. 

And the two dudes with their arms around poor burger girl? Definitely the titular bad guys. Seriously, who dresses in a leopard print two-piece suit in broad daylight. Er, rain... light? 

At least their atrocious fashion sense makes them easier to spot as they make their way down one of the seedier streets in Garreg Mach. A street that burger girl has no defensible right to be walking down. Nor does she looks like she wants to. Her umbrella is shaking like a leaf in the wind. 

As they make their way into an alley, Hilda ducks behind a trash can and peers out. She chews her lip. Delicate flower that she is, Hilda's still fairly certain she can take on two goons who couldn't even make the extras list. She can give Holst a run for his money in an arm wrestle if she actually tries, after all. But burger girl could get hurt if she's not careful soooooo... 

Plan B. 

Fake it 'til you make it. 

Hilda steps out, cupping one hand to her mouth. "Annette! Annette, hold up!"

Why Mercedes' roommate's name is the first name to come to her mind, Hilda has no idea. But it works. All three of them, including burger girl jump and stop in their tracks. 

Perfect. Hilda lifts her umbrella higher and comes straight for them, woman on a mission. 

"Oh mah gawd, Annette, I take one eye off of you and you end up getting lost, I swear to Sothis." She takes burger girl's hand in hers, ignoring the dumbstruck look on her face, and turns to the two bozos with a plaster smile. "Thanks so much for helping my friend find her way, she's terrible with directions, and the teacher will KILL us if we're late one more time."

One of the thugs actually takes a step back. "I thought you said she was 18!" he hisses to generic bozo A. 

Bozo, A clearly the single brain cell of operation, frowns, stepping forward. "Wait a sec, which school do you go to? And why aren't you wearing a uniform?"

Plan C is to fake it until you can make a break for it. She bats her eyelashes. "Oh, you know, our school is pretty lax about that sort of stuff. Anyway, gotta go, byeeeeeee!" 

"Hold up, you little-!" 

Bozo A may be the brains of the bunch, but that's not saying much when there's only a single brain cell going around. He reaches a hand out, grabbing onto Hilda's shoulder, and honestly, that's _perfect_. 

Hilda grabs his arm, twists around, and in a move that would've made Holst green with envy, _pivots_. 

Bozo A screams and goes flying into the trash can with a loud metallic clang. Both burger girl and the other schmuck stare at the mess, jaws open. The umbrella actually falls out of burger girl's slack grip.

Faked it. Now time to make a break for it. 

"Run!" 

Hilda pulls burger girl into a sprint and starts running, ditching her umbrella into the wind. Burger girl lets out a surprised little 'eep!' and half-bows to Bozo A as they pass ("s-sorry, I'm sorry!") and what the hell, that's kinda cute and Hilda can't help but laugh into the rain as they race past the city lights. 

\--- 

The highrise they take shelter in, Goddess Tower Apartments, (ha, Seteth would've loved irony) is pretty much an abandoned dump in the middle of the city. Perfect for hiding away from scummy back alley con men. Not so great for hiding away from the rain, since every floor they go up seems to be missing the freaking roof. They're practically near the top before they find what looks like an old abandoned living room with partial ceiling and actual floorboards.

Hilda's in the middle of wringing out one of her twintails when burger girl speaks up. 

"M-My name's not Annette."

Hilda tries not to start, because burger girl's voice is so quiet, it honestly sounds like a ghost. "Huh? Oh, no, yeah, that was just the first name that came to mind. Trust me, you look nothing like her." Hilda says, squeezing her hair harder. Gawds, she's so sick of the rain ruining everything about her appearance. "I'm Hilda, by the way." 

"M-Marianne," she replies quietly, and oh thank Sothis, Hilda doesn't have to keep referring to her as burger girl in her head anymore. "I'm sorry for dragging you into that... mess." 

Burger- dang it, _Marianne_ seems to have an apologetic streak the size of the sky. It'd be kinda annoying if it weren't for the fact that she looks like a puppy that's been kicked around one too many times. And that she actually, really does sound sorry. Like, "everything in the whole world is my fault, so I'm apologizing for that" kind of sorry. 

"Uhh, last I checked, I was the one who dragged me into that mess, so don't sweat it. Besides, I owe you, remember?" 

Something clicks in Marianne's face. "O-oh, you- you're that trendy girl!" she says, and then flushes. "I-I mean..." 

Trendy girl. Really? Hilda's starting to feel a little bad for both of their nonexistent nicknaming skills. 

"Don't sweat it." Better trendy girl than burger chick, at the very least. "What were you doing with those losers anyway? Got tired of flipping buns for the corporate machine or something?" 

"I-I was actually let go the day before yesterday," Marianne mutters, and oh, hello foot, meet mouth. Her fingers clutching nervously at the hem of her hoodie and Hilda's starting to realize everything about Marianne is just, nervous. From the way her shoulders are set to the way she can't seem to look Hilda in the eyes. "I w-was seeing those men for a job in w-working in their c-club." 

"Wha- are you nuts?!" That has to be one of the stupidest ideas Hilda's ever heard, and she knows stupid in the running-away-from-home-with-only-one-pair-of-socks kind of stupid. "You know that's how they run those scams, don't you? Chat up pretty girls like you, give them a loan, and then force them to work in their sleazy cabarets when you can't pay back the insane interest!"

So maybe Hilda's rehashing the opening to that one yakuza flick she streamed the day before on Seteth's laptop. But like, whatever, that's totally how they do things in the big city anyway, she's 99% sure.

"I was out of options," says Marianne, and she looks way too young to sound so world-weary and tired. "Nobody else was going to hire someone like me." 

"Uhh, more like no one in their right mind would hire a minor."

"I'll be eighteen in two months."

Hilda makes sure to keep her face completely still because, really? She's two years older? That's... huh.

"Well, they're still not gonna someone who likes they're skipping out on school." Hilda shrugs, filing away that little tidbit for later. "Trust me, I would know."

"I doubt it," says Marianne, again with that same tired acceptance, and it's getting _so_ old, _so_ fast. "I'm not like you. I'm cursed." 

Oh boy. One of _those._

"Uhhhhhh'kay?" Hilda squints and... nope, nope she can't see it. "I mean, you look a little... tired, I guess. But that's nothing a good night's sleep won't fix. Or makeup, if like, sleep isn't your thing." Which sounds stupid, but you can never really tell with those chunni types, with their head in the clouds of their favorite anime and delusions. "Yeah, you don't really strike me as cursed." 

"Oh, really?" Marianne lifts her head, and Hilda takes a step back in surprise at the sudden spark in her eyes, something on the edge of frustration and raw anguish in her voice. "Would someone normal be able to do _this_?" 

She puts her hands together and closes her eyes, looking to all the world like the world's most pained prayer. 

There are an awkward few seconds where Hilda waits and... 

Nothing happens. 

Of course.

_God, why do all the pretty ones have to be so weird?_

"Right. Okay. I'm just going... you know," Hilda begins to say.

And then stops as the rain begins falling _upwards._

"I- what the...?"

Hilda watches, slackjawed, as Marianne continues praying. She watches as the rain continues to go up, up, up, into the sky, slowly petering off into a light drizzle and then, into nothing.

Hallucination. It's totally a hallucination, brought upon Hilda's intense desire for one day where it doesn't rain, and she can see the sun. There's no other explanation for it, obviously, because pretty prayer girls who also just so happen to be waterbenders? Yeah, get real.

And then the sun comes out from behind the clouds, and Hilda knows, just knows, that it is _real._

So real it _hurts_.

"Do you see now?" Marianne lowers her hands. The single ray of sunlight that falls onto her form doesn't match with the resignation in her eyes. As if she knows the horrible way this will all end. "I told you. I'm not normal." 

_Legends say she's still brightening up the sky to this day._

A sunshine maiden. An honest to goddess, girl of the sun. The stories were true. Nature's own remote control. She should be freaking out right now, questioning her sanity at the very least.

And yet, there's only one thought that goes through Hilda's mind as she raises her hand to shield her eyes from the first few rays of sunshine she's seen in months. 

_I never knew the sky could be so beautiful._

"You're right. You're not normal. You're _awesome_." 

The sunshine girl nods her head along in sad acceptance- and then jerks back when the words finally process in her brain.

"I-I what?" N-no..." she shakes her head furiously. "No, I-I'm not. How... Can't you see- it's not normal. I'm a _freak_." 

"The freaking best! I mean, look!" Hilda stretches her hand out even further. She can practically feel the sky rushing through her fingers. "Maaan, I'd forgotten just how warm sunlight could be." 

Poor Marianne. She looks so lost and confused. It makes Hilda want to reach out and pinch her cheeks and help ground her from floating away.

"I...How... You..." She pauses. Takes a deep breath. "How... how are you not scared out of your wits by all...this?" 

Fair question. "I am. A little bit," Hilda says honestly. "But like, I'm also way too happy right now to even think about being weirded out. I mean, look!" she points up, laughing in delight at what she see's. "It's the _sky_." 

Marianne cranes her head upwards, just a fraction, a confused little tilt. 

"It's... always been there?" 

But Hilda just shakes her head, willing the sunshine girl to see what she sees. "Yeah, but it's so much more than just that. It's so blue! And big! And like, for the first time in forever, it feels like... like..."

She reaches her arm out further, trying to take all of the sky in the palm of her own two hands.

"Like life is worth living again. Like it's worth _thriving_ in."

A smile is the only gift Hilda can give her right now, so she puts on the best, brightest one she has, one that'd make the sun jealous. 

"Thanks for bringing back the color into my life, sunshine girl." 

"O-oh!" The color that Hilda's compliment brings to Marianne's cheeks is very pink. Coincidentally, it's also very cute too. "I... I... ummm..." 

Marianne's entire form is trembling like a leaf in the wind. Hilda reaches out, taking her hand in hers. They're surprisingly warm. Soft too. Hilda decides she likes the feeling. A lot. 

"Y-you're welcome," says the sunshine girl, and when the tears start to flow, Hilda just laughs and reaches out to hug the sky a little closer to her heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send comments and kudos because they help me work out what the ever loving hell I'm doing writing this ecks deeeeeee


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, I'm gonna keep writing this because I am dumb of ass.

"Pay per... weather?"

"Yeah, you know, like, pay-per-view movies. But instead of movies, it's for the weather, instead." 

"Pay-per-view was before I was born." Marianne carefully sets the tray of dumplings on the table, her free hand pushing her century-old Ipad, along with the rest of the clutter, to the side. Hilda's never seen a more disorganized room in her life, filled with all sorts of knickknacks and crap. Books lying around on the floor, mostly fiction judging by the covers, a stack of bills and old receipts wedged in the cracks of the threadbare sofa, and cutely enough, a little white unicorn plush with a crooked wing on top of the futon. The only part of Marianne's matchbox apartment that's relatively organized is the corner where the small Shinto shrine dedicated to the Goddess is. 

Cluttered, but cozy. A definite lived-in feel, even if it's a bit stuffy. Hilda makes a mental note to ask to open the windows next time, but oh wait, just kidding, no she won't 'cuz it's _still_ raining, ha HA. It's been months. _Months._ The weather people are calling a freak meteorological phenomenon brought on by the perfect disaster blend of global warming and lunar phases because they're pretty much clueless. Hilda calls it absolute crap because that's what the rain is doing to her hair and wardrobe.

Marianne snaps the disposable chopsticks in half, passing a pair to Hilda. "Um... do you prefer soy sauce or vinegar?" 

"Ketchup, actually." 

Politely disgusted is the only way to describe the face Marianne makes. Hilda manages to hold it all in for a grand total of five seconds before she's cackling hard enough to choke, and a few seconds later, Marianne joins in too, hiding her shy little giggles behind a fist.

Together, they demolish the plate of potstickers, Hilda talking all the while, gesturing pointedly with her chopsticks while Marianne listens on attentively. Hilda can't remember what she talked about for the life of her. Something dumb she did in the past, maybe. Or about to do in the future. Doesn't matter. By the time the potstickers are gone, Marianne's actually giggled about three more times and snorted once, so Hilda's counting it as her win.

There's a world outside of this tiny apartment, but at the moment, all that really exists is the rain drumming softly on the windows, a full stomach, and a little warmth to be shared between them.

"I still don't feel... comfortable asking people to pay for the weather," Marianne admits once the table is cleared, the dishes cleaned, and the Ipad booted up in front of them. She's switched to more comfy clothes- a familiar navy-blue hoodie that she's practically drowning in and a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose that make the grey of her eyes twenty times bigger. And twenty times harder to concentrate. (Past Hilda never really understood the appeal for glasses when contact lenses exist, but oh boy, past Hilda was an idiot and shouldn't have been allowed rights.) 

Marianne worries the bottom of her lip, fingers idly tapping the screen. "It all seems... I don't know. A little... underhand?" 

"You see, that's the problem." Hilda plops down next to Marianne, leaning casually into her shoulder, inwardly cheering when the taller girl stiffens for only a second before relaxing into it. Marianne is so obviously touch-starved that it makes Hilda want to somehow shrink her down to mini-plush size and carry her wherever she goes and give her hugs at least once an hour, maybe even twice because hugs are freaking great and Marianne deserves a freaking truckload of them. "You gotta stop thinking it's like we're scamming people and start thinking of it like a business!" 

Pretty grey eyes blink confusedly back at Hilda and- focus girl, focus. Stare later. And maybe when she's not looking (wait no, that's creepy. But when then aghhh.) "But... we are... scamming people?" 

"Not according to the good ol' law of supply and demand, we aren't. Think of it like this. Say some folks want a nice summer wedding, or the circus is in town that day. Great right? But oh, would you look at that, it's rain. Rain all day, every day, blagh." She puts a dramatic hand to her forehead, leaning back even further into Marianne. "Oh, if only the sun would come out for a few hours so that I could get married and catch the clown show right after!"

"Because that's what people do when they get married," says Marianne with only a touch of dryness, a small smile on her lips, and Hilda couldn't be prouder.

"Maybe the clowns are the ones getting hitched, you don't know, hush." Hilda nudges her back, and Marianne relents with another small giggle that sends a pleased little flutter into Hilda's chest. "Point is, people want the sun, right? Boom! We give it to them! All for the low, low price of..." She does some quick mental calculations. Garreg Mach ain't a cheap city at the end of the day, for the newlywed or the clown people and especially not for two girls on a shoestring budget. "...$59.99. Plus tax."

Marianne's horrified expression tells Hilda precisely what she thinks of that reasonable price. She quickly changes tracks. "Highballing it, obviously. Look, don't think of it as a scam and more like a public service and where we get donations in return. Like a shrine maiden!" Nothing like a shrine maiden, to be honest, but a little white lie never hurt anybody in the grand scheme of money-making, of course. "Besides, wouldn't you like a little more spending money for yourself? Get yourself a Christmas in July present." 

At the mention of the word present, Marianne's expression turns thoughtful. "It is a bit much... but her birthday is coming up soon..." she admits quietly, more to herself. 

_Her_? Uh, _hello_ ? Before Hilda can ask who " _h_ _er_ " is, Marianne clears her throat hastily "Umm... $20," she counters, almost apologetically. "A-and no tax." 

Goddess bless this cinnamon roll and her stupid, big heart. "$40. _Yes tax_. C'mon, Mari, a girl's gotta eat!" 

After the price is settled ($25 plus a transportation fee), the two of them start on the website for their pay-per-weather service. Which somehow is way, _waaaaaaay_ more work than Hilda anticipated because apparently, making a webpage from scratch isn't as simple as copying and pasting pictures from the Internet into a Word doc. Turns out, there's actual effort involved. Not to mention coding. Coding. _Ugh._

They spend the next few hours jumping from one online video tutorial to the next and making absolutely no progress. Marianne gets up to grab snacks and water. Hilda distracts them both by clicking on the recommended video feed and getting sucked into the Youtube equivalent of the Wikipedia hyperlink game. Who knew equestrian care videos could be so zen?

Hilda's in the middle of one video titled " _So you've got yourself a miniature pony, what do?_ " and internally debating whether or not she wants to splurge the rest of her paycheck on nabbing one for herself (because those little feetsies, so _small, c'mon_ ) when she hears the front door open and shut. 

"I'm home!" 

The lights flicker on, and Hilda lets out a surprised hiss as the brightness assaults her eyes. She lifts her head, blinking the spots out of her vision.

A girl, probably no older than 12 or 13, stares accusingly back at her. She's dressed in a cute little yellow rain slicker, the hat covering the shock of white hair flowing down the back. 

"Uhh... heya." Hilda raises her hand and gives a little wave. "Welcome back?" 

The girl drops her red backpack on the ground, never once taking her eyes off Hilda. "Sis, who's this?" 

Marianne, who's been quietly dozing the past half-hour or so, cheek in her palm, suddenly startles awake. "Wha- oh, Lysithea. Sorry, I didn't hear you-" the rest of her sentence is cut off by an enormous yawn. "Sorry. Ly, this is Hilda. Hilda, my little sister, Lysithea." Another yawn as she stands up, rubbing at her eyes. "Let me get your snack." 

"After school snacks are for children," her sister mutters petulantly but trots off to follow her into the kitchen. Not before she gives Hilda the stink eye again, though. A few more years and she'll have the suspicious/disapproving look down pat, but right now, it's about as threatening as a kitten falling into its bowl of milk. 

Hilda gives her another cheery wave before turning back to the tablet and tries not to eavesdrop on the hushed conversation coming from the kitchen.

Ha, yeah, right. She's _totally_ eavesdropping.

"I... think we still have some granola bars left over. Or I can cut up some apple slices if you'd like that instead." 

"I told you, I don't need an after-school snack." 

"Hmm... Pudding cup?" 

"...yes, please." 

Hilda hears the fridge open, then close. 

A beat of silence. And then...

"Is she your girlfriend?" 

Hilda flinches so badly that she accidentally closes twenty tabs worth of useless videos in one fell swoop. From the kitchen, there's a sad, splat sound, followed by a distraught, " _My pudding!_ "

"W-what? N-no, I... No!" Hilda can't see it, but it's not hard imagining Marianne's face turning into tomato sauce. "She's not... Hilda's a... a _friend._ " 

"Since when do you have friends?" 

" _Lysithea!_ " 

"You've never invited friends over before."

"Y-yes, well..." and from there, the conversation devolves into hushed whispers going back and forth. Hilda strains her ears as hard as she can but no dice. The rain hitting against the windows is louder than whatever they're saying.

Without warning, the sliding door slides open with a bang, and Hilda puts on her best innocent face as Lysithea marches back into the living room, pudding cup in hand, spoon in her mouth, all business. Marianne trails behind her, shooting an apologetic look at Hilda. 

"I don't know you." Lysithea takes the spoon out of her mouth and points in straight in Hilda's face and d'awwww that is _precious._ " And I don't know what feminine wiles you pulled on my big sis ("S-She did nothing of the sort!"), but I'm not that gullible. I've got an IQ of 180, and I know at least fifteen different ways to get you legally incriminated for crimes you may or may not have committed, with no conceivable way to link any evidence back to me. And in seven of those scenarios, you're the one turning yourself in." Her glare intensifies as she takes another spoonful of her pudding and pops it straight in her mouth. "So you better watch yourself, buster. Or _else_." 

Precious and _precocious_ , well, that's just freaking lovable. There's some very clear sibling worship going on here, not to mention a protective streak to boot. 

Hilda glances over to Marianne. "180 IQ?"

"Self-tested, apparently," says Marianne in a way that's only a little exasperated, a _lot_ proud.

Lysithea bristles. "The Garreg Mach Official Webpage for Health and Sciences is a completely reputable and reliable source, I'll have you know!"

"Sure is, shortstack," Hilda says indulgently, enjoying the indignant way Lysithea splutters and how Marianne has to turn away to hide her smile. "I think you and I are gonna get along just fine." 

"Speaking of webpages," Marianne intervenes, gently pushing her sister to sit down at the table before she explodes, "how's ours coming along?" 

Hilda glances at their work. "Uhh, pretty good? I think?" If pretty good means that their website looks like the horribly disfigured love child of MS Paint and the first page of Google Images, then yeah, it's going _great_. She flips the tablet around. "See for yourself." 

Marianne makes the same face she did when Hilda asked for ketchup for her dumplings. "A-ah. It's... lovely."

"It's an eldritch abomination, that's what it is." Lysithea gags into her pudding cup, and Hilda's too impressed that an apparent grade-schooler knows how to string the words eldritch and abomination together in a sentence to be offended. "I think I went temporarily blind. Did you even use a stylesheet or JavaScript?" 

"I don't think Instagram has those filters last I checked."

"Oh my goddess- gimme that!" Lysithea swipes the tablet, and Hilda backs away, hands raised. "I can't in good conscience subject the general populace to this mess."

It's like watching a particularly prickly elf from Santa's workshop work their magic, and for the next few hours, Hilda watches on in thinly veiled amusement as something resembling an actual respectful website begins to emerge from the corpse of their first failed attempt. Marianne's sister definitely knows what she's doing, even if she refuses to build on Hilda's feedback- "Ooooh, can you give the sun a little smiley face? Like the one in Teletubbies!" and Marianne's cautious suggestions- "Er, m-maybe _not_ exactly like the one in Teletubbies?"

But she's also just a kid, with a kid's internal clock and bedtime. Somewhere between 10 PM and line five thousand of her code, a switch is flipped, and the younger girl conks out like a light. Hilda helps piggyback her to the futon, waving off Marianne's simultaneous apologies and thank-you's.

"We're not really sisters," she admits once Lysithea is tucked in and snoring. "She's adopted. Well, we both are. Were. They're... they're gone now." Marianne smoothes some of the hair back on her sister's face, a sad smile playing on her lips that she's probably not even aware of. "She's all I have." 

"Well, that's not true." Hilda sidles up next to her, nudging her gently with her shoulder. "You've got me now too, don't' cha?"

That gets Marianne's attention, and she jerks her head up, surprise etched all over her face. 

"I...I suppose I do," she admits shyly as her smile turns hesitantly warm, and Hilda grins, seeing a small glimpse of the sun in her lips. 

\--- 

"I'm not wearing that," are the first words out of Lysithea's mouth when she sees what Hilda is holding. "It's humiliating."

"Since when are _teru teru bozu_ humiliating?" Hilda thrusts the mask into Lysithea's face, who bats it away with an offended hiss. Ungrateful little weenie. Not like she was the one who had to sacrifice an entire Saturday evening to painstakingly paint and assemble the whole costume. "They're adorable!"

"Since when do _teru teru bozu_ have neko ears?"

"Because they're adorable, what are you not understanding." Hilda pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to ignore the stares from the rest of the _Teautes Taichi Over Sixty Society_ gathered in the park on this beautiful (rainy) Monday afternoon. Most of them look older than Hilda's own grandparents, and with any luck, they'll be just as nearsighted because between the three of them, they still haven't thought up a proper excuse on how Marianne can suddenly make the sun appear out of nowhere, other than ' _oh wow, what a funny coincidence, hahaha can we have our money now please and thank you.'_ The best they can do is just play along into good old superstition, which would work better if _certain_ gremlins played along and put on their freakin' costume, for crying out loud

"Lysithea," says Marianne quietly but firmly, just as her sister gears up for another round of _don't-wanna's_ and _you-can't-make-me's!_ "Hilda worked very hard on your costume, and it'd be rude to not try it on at least once, right?"

Her little sister grumbles, but she snatches the mask from Hilda's hands. She doesn't put it on though and fixes Marianne with a petulant pout. "This is demeaning. I have an IQ of 180 for Sothis's sake! Why do I have to be the one to do this?"

"Well, there is another option..." Marianne trails off. "But it's... a little..."

Wordlessly, Hilda pops opens her umbrella. Miniature _teru teru bozu_ bedazzled in every offensive color imaginable swing cheerfully from their strings, smiling maniacally in the rain, free from their umbrella prison to wreak havoc on the sight of every living thing within visual range. 

Lysithea plunks the mask over her head without another word. 

_Finally_. Now they're getting somewhere. "Alrighty then." Hilda lifts the umbrella over Marianne's head, who has to duck or risk getting clubbed in the eye from one enthusiastic doll. "Work your magic!"

Marianne glances back at the umbrella, looking extremely unsure of the whole plan. But then her gaze slides to Hilda, and the wary look in her clears just a fraction.

"A-alright then." She steps beneath the umbrella, shoulders just barely brushing against Hilda's. She takes a deep breath and clasps her hands together. 

"Here goes."

And then the sunshine girl begins to pray. Hilda watches on as Marianne murmurs a prayer that only she can hear, lips moving soundlessly along. Behind them, the little ghost of a _teru teru bozu_ hops up and down, waiting impatiently for the rain to end.

The first to notice the single ray of sunshine peeking out of the clouds is the event coordinator, who's loud surprised shout draws the attention of the rest of the crowd. Then there's a chorus of hushed gasps, sharp intakes of breath as the clouds begin to part. 

When the sun actually begins to shine, someone lets out a loud cheer. Within seconds, people are following along, laughing, cheering, clapping, and generally losing their minds as they experience their first taste of the sun in months. Hilda swears she can hear someone sobbing in the background, but she's not sure.

Marianne finishes her prayer, lowering her hands, blinking owlishly as the sun hits her face. At the sight before her, she steps back in surprise, looking supremely uncomfortable at all the attention. But before she can get away, the event coordinator, a burly man with a mustache that any self-respectable trucker would've been proud of, appears out of nowhere, cutting off her escape. 

"You did it! By Seiros, you girls did it!" Everything about him is loud, especially the booming grin on his face. "I haven't the foggiest idea how the three of you managed to pull the sun from out your pockets, but I won't look a gift wyvern in the mouth, no siree!" 

Without warning, he picks up Marianne, Hilda, and a fairly miffed _teru teru bozu_ into a crushing bear hug, laughing boisterously all the while before settling them down again. "I suppose I'll just have to _weather_ on the mystery until then, eh?" He waggles his eyebrows, and Hilda remembers just in time to laugh politely along, loud enough to cover up the gagging noises coming from their ungrateful little _teru teru bozu."_ In any case, on behalf of all of us here, thank you girls so very much." 

"Oh, i-it was nothing," Marianne stammers out, looking a little dazed and overwhelmed by the sheer personality of Trucker-stache. Hilda can't blame her. He reminds her a bit of Holst times ten, plus puns. "Nothing... nothing worth praising." 

Trucker-stache's eyebrows nearly shoot off his face. "Nothing worth praising? Why, I beg to differ, miss! You deserve nothing but praise! Heaps of it, in fact. I mean, look over there!" He gestures grandly at the park. "What do you see?"

Marianne looks nervously to where he's gesturing, and then to Hilda for guidance. Fat lot of help that'll do. All Hilda sees is a bunch of old folks about to get their yoga on. Riveting stuff that. "I-I uhm, don't quite follow?"

"A smile!" The way he says it makes it sound like the most obvious, wondrous thing in the world. "A smile on every face! Pure joy and not a frown in sight!" He lowers his hand, still beaming, and Hilda wasn't sure before, but now, she thinks Trucker-stache is pretty alright in her book, atrocious puns aside. "I'd say that sight alone is worth praising, don't you think? You've have something special in you, miss, mark my words. A precious gift that no one else has!"

Marianne and the _teru teru bozu_ suddenly freeze in place, and Hilda realizes just then that oh- oh crap. Trucker-stache may be alright, but he's just unwittingly stepped on a _minefield_. 

Emotions flash across Marianne's face, flickering too fast for Hilda to see. Just before Hilda's about to do something very loud and very, _very_ stupid so that they can get the heck out of dodge, screw the paycheck, Marianne opens her mouth.

"You... you really think so?" Her voice trembles as she raises her head to look at him, the raw vulnerability as clear as the blue sky above, and for a second, Hilda feels her own chest clench. "I... this is... a gift?"

He looks down at her, surprised. But when he sees the look on her face, something like understanding flashes in his eyes, and he puts a steadying hand on her shoulder.

"The power to bring smiles wherever you go?" He stares her straight in the eyes, patient smile never faltering for a second. "Why, if that's not a gift from the Goddess herself, well, I don't know what is!"

Marianne is silent and expressionless for all of a second. And then, slowly, like a wall being torn down brick by brick, her face crumbles. She buries her face in her hands as a ragged sob is ripped out of her throat. But there's no pain in the sound, just an overwhelming sense of relief.

"I..." The tears flow freely, drowning out the sound of her voice as she tries hopelessly to wipe them away. "I-I..."

And Hilda reaches out without thinking, grabs Marianne's arm and hugs her, hugs her tight to let her know that it's okay, it's all okay now. And Marianne collapses into the hug, sobbing quietly into the crook of Hilda's neck like her life depends on it and when the _teru teru bozu_ rushes into the hug too, sniffling sounds coming from inside the mask, Hilda doesn't say a word. She just holds them as close as she possibly can to her heart.

"Well, would you look at that," says the event coordinator, head inclined to stare straight up into the clear blue sky. "A sunshower, this time of year." He inhales deeply. "How wonderful." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hilda later finds an envelope in her purse with their paycheck, thirty extra dollars and a little note that says "When does it rain money? When there's a _change_ in the weather!" and Alois becomes her favorite trucker dude in the city no contest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave kudos and kind words to validate me and this crazy crossover I am but a leetle crechur ;_;

Business really starts picking up near the end of spring, when summer vacations start and festival season really starts kicking things into high gear. Makes sense, since no one wants to spend their entire summer suffering indoors because of the rain. Sure, it means even more work for Hilda since requests start pouring into the website ranging from the grandma who needs an hour or two of the sun out so she can dry the laundry to the Garreg Mach National TV Station requesting them personally to stop the rains so that they can cover the annual White Heron summer festival, but heck, she can't complain. To quote the patron saint of commerce herself, " _business is booming!_ "

Of course, with all the influx of requests doesn't mean they can accept every single one of them, no matter how hard Marianne tries to. Turns out, hiding beneath that adorably shy little face is one ginormous bleeding heart. That Hilda loves her for, really. It's just that, grade-schoolers and little ol' grannies don't exactly roll in the cash and you can't exactly pay rent with gumballs, pretty marbles, or old people cookies. And that's if Hilda and Lysithea can stop Marianne before she says something along the lines of "O-oh, no, there's no need for that. Free of charge."

Unsurprisingly, convincing Marianne to actually accept payment as the sunshine girl is Hilda's unofficial second job, right after being the official manager for the sunshine girl. Go figure.

And even then it's not always smooth sailing. Because some days it's just work and some days, it's _work_ with a capital W. Those days are the worst, where they have to trek all over Garreg Mach and the customers are rude buttheads and try short them on the cash and just, everything that makes the job not. Fun.

But... Hilda has to admit, even then, the worst days aren't all that bad. Because at the end of the day, she'll still end up back at Marianne's little matchbox apartment, where it's warm and dry and comfy, and there's a hot cup of tea waiting and the outside world doesn't exist. She'll sidle up as close as she can to Marianne on the couch, resting her head against Marianne's shoulder as the taller girl reads off another request for the sunshine girl off her tablet. Lysithea will be dozing on and off against her sister's knees, trying to stay past her bedtime and failing somewhere halfway.

The rain will patter softly against the roof, mixing in perfectly with Marianne's soft voice and Lysithea's gentle snores. Hilda will lean back, savoring the light flavors from the tea and finally, finally, feel like she can breathe again. 

Sure some days, it all feels like work. But even then...

It's not so bad when there's a place called home she can come back to.

\---

"I haven't seen you around the office as of late," Seteth remarks one slow afternoon on her way out of the office.

Hilda pauses, one hand in the middle of putting on her sandals, the other on the door handle. "Uh, I guess?" Warily, she lets go of the doorknob. It's been close to a year since she started working at _Cichol and Co._ , plenty of time for her to learn and identify the many scowls and frowns of Seteth. For example, the frown he has on right now is less, _Ms.Goneril, there are at least 17 punctuation and grammar errors in this piece, fix them immediately,_ and more, _Ms. Goneril, this is my puzzled scowl, the one I use when I don't want other people to know that I'm puzzled_. 

"That's not a problem, is it?" She sure hopes not. They've got a pretty important gig for the sunshine girl lined up in a few hours, and out of all the requests they've gotten, this is NOT the one she wants to show up late for. She shifts her weight to the other leg, resisting the urge to look at the exit. "If this is about the piece on the crazy sewer rat people, I already sent it over to Mercedes to proofread."

Seteth shakes his head. "I know. Ms. Martritz showed it to me before she left for the day. Some minor cosmetic errors aside, it's acceptable to be published as is." He regards her carefully, and it takes Hilda to realize the look in his eyes to be... respect? Wait, really?

"I must admit, your writing has improved leaps and bounds since you first started working here. Seeing such progress is no less than impressive." Her boss continues on, oblivious to the mini heart attack that Hilda's having at because her boss, eternal frowny emoji, perpetual stick in the mud, _Seteth,_ just complimented her, of all people. 

"Ah, but to answer your earlier question, no, there is no problem. I was simply curious as to what has you coming and going so frequently as of late."

"Uhhh..." Right, words. Hilda's still trying to unstick her brain from the last minute. She shakes her head. "Oh, yeah, no, I'm just heading out to my second job is all."

Seteth's eyebrows disappear into his hairline, and for the first time, Hilda gets to see an expression other than a grumpy frown on his face. "Oh. I had no idea you were also employed elsewhere."

Oh. Oh, crap, this isn't one of those breach of contract things, is it? Not like she signed an official contract when she started working here, but still. 

"It's more of a local charity thing I do with a friend," Hilda hedges, which is technically true. Ish. For the past couple of sunshine girl gigs, she's been secretly siphoning off her share of the paycheck into Marianne's bank account. Which sounds absolutely nuts and entirely out of character, even to her. But then again, Hilda's not the one putting her younger sister through school or buying groceries or struggling to make rent each month. 

Or maybe it's Marianne's big bleeding heart that's finally getting to Hilda. Whatever.

_"_ I don't have to quit, do I?"

Seteth strokes his chin sagely for a second before shaking his head (bullet dodged there, hoo boy). "As long as you finish your work here before the deadlines, I see no issue with it. Though your timing is rather fortuitous." 

He reaches into his pocket and takes out a piece of paper, because of course someone as tech-hating as Seteth would still use pen and paper instead of shooting off a simple text. "If you are going out, might I trouble you to pick up a few things from the convenience store?"

"Sure thing." She takes the list and gives it a quick scan. It's mostly the usual stuff- coffee, milk, a few instant microwave dinners, an absurd amount of eggs because eggs are the only thing both she and Seteth can make safely when Mercedes isn't around (never mind they both had to look up a tutorial on YouTube on how to properly boil them, the important thing is that the kitchen's still in one piece and they haven't lost the security deposit). 

It's only near the end when Hilda notices something different. "Two bags of gummy worms and a pack of... dried anchovies?" She hits him with a quizzical look. He's either making the world's most disgusting pizza or those pregnancy cravings are really starting to kick in.

"Oh, those aren't for me." Faint embarrassment rolls off of him as he crosses his arms, and Hilda tries not to stare. It's the full spectrum of Seteth emotions on display today, who da thunk? "Those are for my daughter."

"Ah right, right." Hilda nods understandingly. That explains the gummy worms, though the anchovies are a bit odd still, but then again, what growing kid doesn't have weird taste buds? There was a phase when she was younger where she wanted mustard on everything. Even her dessert. Thank the Goddess she grew out of- "Wait, you have a _daughter?!_ " Hilda gapes. "You're a _father?!" Since when?!_ "

"Oh, I didn't mention that?" For once, Seteth looks honestly surprised. "Strange. I was sure Ms. Martriz would've at least said something to you if I hadn't."

Mercedes actually hasn't been around the office much either lately, but that's not important. What's important is that her boss, who looks barely older than Hilda's own brother, has a daughter. A. DAUGHTER.

Seteth is digging around in his pockets again. "I have a picture of her somewhere in my wallet. Ah. Here we are."

He hands over a faded looking polaroid (a polaroid, of course, he'd have it on a polaroid). Younger looking Seteth without the goatee looks back at her, wearing a matching smile with the little girl with adorable little curls riding on his shoulders. A little to the side is a woman with the little girl's eyes and smile, clapping and laughing as she watches on.

"Her name is Flayn," Seteth says, sounding every bit the proud father that Hilda never knew he was. "She'll be starting middle school in the summer, weather permitting."

"She's adorable. I'll take ten of her." Hilda says, only half-joking, as she hands the photo back, not missing the way Seteth eyes soften the smallest fraction as he glances at the picture. "How come I've never seen her around here before? You should bring her and let us spoil her rotten!"

As soon as the words leave Hilda's mouth, she knows she's made a mistake. The smile on her boss's face stiffens and cracks.

"Currently, Flayn is in the care of my sister. Her aunt." He pockets the photo before glancing off to the side. "She has been taking care of her ever since my wife passed away."

"Oh." Ohhhhh crap. Nice job, strolling straight into that minefield there, Hilda, you go girl. If only she'd left two minutes earlier, she could've avoided this whole awkward setup, but noooooo, she just had to waste time looking for that one blouse Marianne had said looked cute on her. "That er....that sucks."

That gets a humorless sort of snort out of him, but at least the wooden smile goes away. "You have such a way with words, Ms. Goneril." He remarks dryly. "And to think, I was just praising you on your writing improvement before this." 

He straightens up and runs a distracted hand through his hair. "It is what it is. To be completely honest, after the accident, I was in no state of mind to look after myself, let alone a child. Rhea made the right decision, stepping in when she did before things could get out of hand." He gives a rueful shake of his head. "My wife would've never let me live it down if she saw the sorry state I was in. She had a tongue on her that could've made a sailor blush, and she used it often whenever she thought I was in one of my 'moods.'"

The way he speaks about his wife is so fond and so different from the stern boss Hilda's come to know. And it's so strange too. True love like that? That kinda stuff only exists in fairy tales and bad anime. No one in her own life could ever make her feel like that, to the point where'd she'd just shut down and not care anymore. No one. 

No one...

"But that's enough reminiscing," Seteth says suddenly, jolting Hilda out of her thoughts. He takes a glance at his watch and grimaces. "Ah, my apologies. I didn't mean to take up so much of your time. Will you still be able to make it to your other work?"

Oh, right. The sunshine girl gig. The one gig that she did NOT want to be late for... and the same one she's currently running late for- oh CRAP.

"Yeah, no, I'm- okay." At least, Hilda sorely hopes so. She's going to have to call Marianne and tell her she's going to maybe be a bit late. Crap. "Gotta go. See you later, boss."

She finishes putting on her sandals, and one hand's on the door when she stops. There's a question niggling in the back of her mind, and she turns around, catching Seteth's eyes.

"Do you miss her?"

The question leaves her lips before she realizes, asking if your boss misses his dead wife? Maaaaaay not be the most tactful of questions to ask when said boss provides lodging, food, and a paycheck, cripes. "Sorry. That was like super insensitive," Hilda quickly backpedals, feeling her cheeks heat up. "You don't have to answer or anything, my filter was off and-"

"Every waking moment," Seteth says simply, surprising Hilda into silence. He's staring at her, but there's a faraway look in his eyes that tells Hilda that he's not really looking at her. Not really.

"Not a day goes by when I wish I could see her again," he says softly, looking into the distance, "I would make a deal with Nemesis himself if it meant I had the chance to see her again, one more time."

She's not sure she's supposed to hear the last words he mutters just as she shuts the door. She's not even sure he realized himself what he said.

"One more day, to be a family again."

\---

"You look a lot younger than I thought you would." 

That's the first thing the lady in charge says when Hilda finally makes it to the Garreg Mach National Broadcasting Station, the largest TV station in the country. Her eyes narrow judgingly as she looks Hilda up and down, tight red ponytail bobbing along with the motion. 

"Shouldn't you still be in school?"

Standing there in the lobby of Fodlan's most-watched news station, Hilda puts on her best customer service smile and silently tries not to freak out. Because this job is the one she really, really needs to go absolutely right and she's already on two strikes. TWO. 

Strike one was arriving nearly half an hour late, strike two was thinking business casual meant coming dressed in a summer crop top, cut off shorts and sandals and not the professional blazer suit the lady is wearing and strike three is everyone getting wind that, oh yeah, she really SHOULD be in school and absolutely NOT working this only semi-legal job.

"I get that a lot." Hilda manages to choke out. Maybe if she smiles harder, she'll be able to distract the lady from overthinking the strangely youthful appearance thing. "Baby face. And really, really good genes. Like, the best."

The lady purses her lips, crossing her arms. Hilda tries not to fidget or- oh god, does she have some food stuck in between her teeth, is that why she's not saying anything oh crap, oh god, where's a reflective surface when you need one?!

Finally, after a stretch of silence that has Hilda sweating bullets, the lady sighs and uncrosses her arms.

"Whatever. If you kids can do what you say can do, then I'm not gonna question it." She turns around, making her way to the elevator. Hilda only catches a brief glance of the nametag on her chest (Sevene? Selera? Bizarre name to be sure) before she gestures impatiently to follow along. 

"Your friend is already here, by the way," she says, punching the button and striding in when the doors open. "Makeup and wardrobe departments should just about be finished prepping her."

_That_ snaps Hilda out of her nervous silence. "Uhh, hey, hold up, that's not what we agreed on." The lady glances at her, looking bored, but Hilda doesn't let that intimidate her as she speaks up. "We make it super clear on our website that pictures or recordings aren't allowed. The sunshine girl works 100% anonymous."

"In this day and age?" the lady says, and then holds up her hands when Hilda bristles. "Relax. No cameras, no video, I remember what you said over the phone. Think of it as a freebie."

Slowly, Hilda lowers her shoulders. "A freebie?"

"Sure." The lady sticks her hands in her pockets and leans against the wall. "The White Heron Festival only comes once every five years after all. You kids might as well look the part and enjoy yourselves while you're still young."

An electronic chime comes out of the lady's pockets, and she takes out her phone, face pinching into a scowl when she reads what's on the screen. "That is if these stupid rains stop long enough for us to get some good shots of the festival and fireworks," she grumbles, stowing her phone away with a huff and massaging her neck. "Gawds, what is this 100% humidity for the next three weeks crap. Should've stayed back in Ylisse instead of taking a job here."

Oh, well, now that's a tangible problem with a very tangible solution, provided by yours truly. "Not to worry, ma'am." Hilda snaps off a smart salute. One last time to promote the sunshine girl brand. "We're professionals. Absolute satisfaction or your money back guaranteed!"

Ooooh, that's a good idea, actually. Shame that this is their last job for a while, though. She definitely could've made Lysithea add that to the website to rake in the hits.

The lady rolls her eyes again, but she's making a face where she's amused but trying not to be amused, but Hilda can totally tell. Seteth makes that same scowl-smile all the time. 

The elevator _dings!_ and the doors slide open.

The view that greets her is nothing short of breathtaking, all of Garreg Mach laid out before her, glowing mutely in the rain. This high up, it feels like she can just lean forward and pluck the city lights one by one and hold them in her hand.

"Whoa," is all Hilda can say.

Behind her, she hears the lady snicker. "Never gets old."

Hilda opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, a familiar voice rings across the roof.

"Hilda! Over here!"

Oh, finally, a familiar face. Hilda turns around, apology already working its way out of her lips. "Mari, hey, I'm so so so sorry for coming late, there was this thing at work aaaaaaaanduuuuuhhhh..." she trails off, feeling her heart stutter to a stop.

The light indigo yukata Marianne is wearing is absolutely gorgeous, the soft violet highlights complementing the natural paleness of her skin along with the deep blue obi tied around her slender waist. But that's not what catches Hilda's attention.

Marianne self-consciously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, shifting on the spot, and Hilda can't help but stare at just how much of her face she can finally see now that her bangs have been pinned back. Somebody on the makeup team really knew their stuff because, as far as Hilda can tell, there's only some light lipstick and a hint of blush on her cheeks. And maybe just a dab of mascara to really bring out her eyes. Like, really bring them out. Have her eyes always been so big??? 

"How... how does it look?"

The shyness is in Marianne's voice is different. Like, there's something almost... brave mixed in with the vulnerability, something that Hilda can't put a name too. The sudden onslaught of butterflies in her stomach is also super distracting, rude little biters. Wait, there was a question earlier, right? Oh crap, how long has she been staring silently like an idiot?

A not-so-subtle elbow nudges into her hip, followed by a pointed cough from the lady, and Hilda blinks back to the present.

"Amazing," is the next embarrassing thing her brain decides to blurt out. Amazing, really? So smooth, girl. 

Well, judging by the flush to Marianne's cheeks, she didn't NOT like the compliment. Might as well go all out on the second-grade adjective vocabulary at this point. 

"Gorgeous. Drop-dead stunning," she presses on, giddiness in her chest growing as Marianne turns redder and redder before hiding behind her hands. "Heart attack in a yukata." 

"I-I think I get it!" Marianne peeks shyly out from behind her fingers, which are as delightfully red as her face. Who knew that was even possible? "You l-look amazing as well."

That's always a given, but in right now, Marianne's the one who completely takes her breath away. Compared to the taller girl, Hilda might as well be the stubborn weed growing in the cracks of the pavement.

Holy crap. Is this what it feels like to be self-conscious but in a good way? WILD.

A catchy little ringtone breaks the silence, startling both of them. The lady pulls out her phone, glancing at them apologetically. 

"Sorry, I gotta take this. You guys just go ahead and do your thing, alright? Oh, and feel free to catch the fireworks from here when you're done. Best view in the city, hands down."

She turns around, heading back to the elevator. Hilda catches a brief whisper of her conversation before the doors shut.

"Hey, Noire. What's up? Nah, I'm good to talk." A brief pause, and then her shoulders hunch in an almost embarrassed fashion, "Oh. W-well, I missed you too! Times one hundred!" before her voice fades away.

Awww, cute.

Marianne clears her throat, and Hilda turns back to her. "Should we get started?" she asks, bashfulness fading away to her serious on the job face, now that it's just the two of them. Also cute as hell too.

Hilda pops open the umbrella, teru teru bozu swinging happily in her face, and gives Marianne a grin. 

"Ready whenever you are."

\---

The sunshine girl prays, and like clockwork, the clouds move on, and the setting sun comes out, basking the city below in the fading colors of dusk.

Marianne lowers her hands, taking a second to take it all in, before swaying worryingly to the side. In a flash, Hilda is next to her, arm around her waist to keep her steady. 

"Whoa, easy there." Hilda slowly lowers them both to the ground, careful to not jostle Marianne more than necessary. "You okay? Need a second?"

Marianne shakes her head. "I-I'm fine," she says in a way that Hilda doesn't believe her for a second, but she lets it go, deciding to bring it up later, after the festival. 

"Just... a little woozy is all." She rests her head against Hilda's shoulder before letting out a small chuckle. "I suppose it's a good thing you and Lysithea convinced me to take a break after this job."

"Only 'cuz you turn into an absolute workaholic when we let you have free reign," Hilda teases back, even as she mentally bites her lip. The dizzy spells and exhaustion, not to mention how it seems to take _just_ a little longer for the rains to stop are actually kinda worrying. Normally, Hilda would write it off as just the usual fatigue that comes with working a job that has her running every which way over Garreg Mach, but Marianne's a special case. Since, you know, she can control the freaking _weather_ just by praying really, really hard. 

Convincing Marianne to take a break was a battle in of itself. What a time to find out that her stubborn streak ran just as deep as her gotta-make-everyone-happy streak. Lysithea had to pull out the baby sister card along with Hilda's own urges to finally convince her to stop. And Hilda knows for a fact that Lysithea _hates_ pulling out the little sister card. 

A sharp whistling sound suddenly, followed seconds later by a chest-rattling boom breaks Hilda out of her thoughts. Marianne lifts her head, exhaustion forgotten as her smile turns into pure delight.

"Oh, they're starting!"

They lean back and watch as the fireworks being lighting up the night sky, each brilliant flash of light louder and more eye-catching than the last one. Back home in Leicester, they had fireworks too, but nothing as flashy as this. Which makes sense since the White Heron festival only comes around every five years. Might as well go all out and blow the budget if you have to wait that long.

There's a small lull in the fireworks when Marianne suddenly speaks up again.

"I just realized," she lifts her head from Hilda's shoulder, catching her eyes. "I never did thank you."

Hilda blinks, mind finally catching up to her thoughts when she tears her gaze away. "Uhh, thank me?" she asks, looking away. Wait a second, why is she turning away. Focus, girl. "For what?"

"For..." Marianne begins, and then pauses, thoughts visibly running across her face. "For... everything, I suppose." She folds her hands together, thumbs circling against each other. "If I hadn't met you, I would've never been able to be here, in this moment. I'd never have the courage to become the sunshine girl."

This focusing thing is failing spectacularly. "Yeah, well," Hilda coughs, running a hand through hair and completely undoing about an hour's worth of prep work."I can't take all the credit. 'Cuz, you know, I'm not the one with the superpowers." She coughs again. "Besides, being the actual sunshine girl? Soooooooo much work." 

But Marianne just shakes her head. "I love it," she says with so much honesty and warmth that it makes Hilda's stomach do a funny little flip. "I love being the sunshine girl and everything about it. I love how I can bring a smile to someone's face just from making the rain stop. I love hearing children laugh when they can feel the warmth from the sun on their skin again. I love how, for the first time in my _life_ that my power feels less like a curse and more of like... like a blessing." 

She takes a breath, voice practically vibrating with a barely contained enthusiasm. "Even on the bad days, I love it all, every single facet of it. But most of all..."

Her voice suddenly tapers off as she hesitates, the bout of courage vanishing away. But then she takes another breath and stares Hilda straight in the eyes. 

"But most of all..." she says softly, words melting into the night. "I l-love that I feel so alive when I'm with you."

A firework chooses right at that moment to go off, scaring the ever-loving _crap_ out of Hilda. They both jump away, laughing nervously, even as Hilda mentally screams. 

You know, what screw the White Heron festival. Fireworks suck. White Herons suck. She was so close. _This_ close to... to...

To what exactly?

The hammering in her heart wants to know.

Hilda chances a glance over at Marianne from the corner of her eyes. The taller girl is staring resolutely at the ground, ignoring the rest of the fireworks. In the brief flashes of light, Hilda can see the soft pink on her entire face, working it's way down to even to her shoulders.

It's the most beautiful sight Hilda's ever seen.

Slowly, because the last thing she wants to do is horribly misread the situation and spook the other girl, she inches her hand across the space between them, keeping her eyes focused resolutely on the blazing sky above.

When their pinkies brush, she feels Marianne stiffen, and she immediately stops. Crap crap crap. Too much, too soon?

But then a second later, she feels Marianne relax. Slowly, her hand moves over Hilda's as she laces their fingers together.

The warmth Hilda feels from Marianne's is hotter than any firework.

She chances another glance. Marianne is still looking at the ground, though the pink dusting her cheeks has graduated to full-on raging blush. A strand of hair has made its way out of her braid again, and without thinking, Hilda reaches over with her free hand and tucks it carefully behind her ear. 

Marianne looks up right at that moment, catching her eye, and Hilda freezes.

Is this okay? Too fast? Too slow? Too much? No clue. Hard to think with how loudly her heart is pounding in her ears, louder than even the exploding fireworks. 

But then Marianne answers the question for her and leans forward, capturing Hilda's lips with her own. 

It's not Hilda's first kiss. But kissing Marianne makes it feel like her very first, soft and slow, a little hesitant, a little shy, but warm, so, so warm. Hilda just wants to pause time to memorize the feel of Marianne's lips against hers, the soft, breathy sigh that escapes the corner of her mouth, every little detail to etch itself into her memory.

Another firework (seriously what the HELL) makes them separate. Hilda's a little out of breath. Her heart wants OUT.

Marianne stares back at her, eyes wide enough that Hilda can see the fireworks reflected in them. 

"I... I..." 

That's all Marianne can get out before she gives up entirely and buries her face straight into the crook of Hilda's neck, bowling them both over. Hilda goes down with a yelp and a breathless laugh, holding on tight to Marianne as the fireworks light up the night sky in time with their hearts.


	4. Chapter 4

For the next week or so, Hilda's pretty much floating on Cloud Nine. Life's great, there aren't any pressing deadlines coming up, her bank account is looking hella fine, and best of all she kissed a pretty girl beneath the fireworks during the White Heron festival and even better yet, a pretty girl kissed her _back_. 

And it was _awesome._

In fact, Hilda's in such a good mood that Marianne only has to twist her arm a lil' bit to convince her to accept one last job, despite the hiatus notice they put up on the website. Then again, rules are overrated, and like hell she's going to say no to Marianne when she pulls out the sad puppy face. 

Besides, once she sees the requester, Hilda's only choice is pretty much _sir, yes, sir!_

"I thought you didn't believe in all that magic hocus pocus stuff."

The look Seteth shoots her is just shy of being dry, held back by his amusement as he shifts to make room for her on the park bench. "You do realize that I run an editorial company that publishes nothing but the 'magic hocus pocus stuff' as you so put it."

"Oooh, is that blasphemy?" Hilda leans forward, edging right into her boss's face. She knows she's pushing his buttons, but today, she wants to see what she can get away with, what with him being in a fantastic mood and all. "That sounds a lot like blasphemy."

He opens his mouth to retort, but before he can, a delighted squeal from across the park interrupts him.

"Father! Look, look!" Flayn rushes up to where they're sitting, curls bouncing excitedly as she brandishes Lysithea's teru teru bozu mask in their faces. "Behold! Is this not the most charming little rain spirit you have ever laid eyes upon?"

"Undoubtedly," he says back, nodding with his serious look even as the corners of his lips curl upwards. Teasing Seteth is a rare form of Seteth that Hilda's never seen before, and frankly, he needs to come out more 'cuz compared to normal Seteth, this one's a riot and a half. Though to be fair, Flayn pretty much draws that sort of response out of everyone, what with her adorable way of speaking and just being her excitable little self. Hilda's probably known her for a total of twenty minutes, and already, she's debating whether or not she can bribe her boss into handing Flayn over so that she can spoil her rotten. 

She's even won over Marianne's shyness in record timing, convincing the taller girl to show her how to do her particular braid. And that was before she managed to wheedle both Marianne and Lysithea into a game of fish tag (not quite sure the rules on that one to be honest) with Mercedes refereeing from the sidelines. 

Once Flayn turns around to rejoin the group, Seteth lowers his hand, fond smile still in place. "Regardless, you girls have my sincerest gratitude for accepting my request. I understand this is to be your last job until the foreseeable future?"

Hilda waves him off. She and Marianne have saved up enough between the two of them that they'll be okay for a while, jobs or not. "No biggie. Besides, who can say no to that face?" she says, gesturing to Flayn, who's listening with rapt attention as Lysithea recites off random fish facts that she learned from... somewhere. "You got any more of her lying around to spare?"

"Just the one and I am rather attached to her, being her father and all, so I'm afraid you're out of luck."

Welp, you miss every shot you don't take. "Boooooo." Hilda sticks her tongue out, and Seteth actually throws his head back and laughs. Well, it's more like a controlled chuckle, because the day Seteth actually lets out a full-blown laugh is the day the sky falls down, but whatever, still counts. 

"You know, just for that, this is my bench now." She nudges him in the side, forcing him to get up. "Go on, shoo. Sun's not gonna be out forever, ya know." 

Her boss does his version of hesitating. Crossing his arms and glancing over to Flayn with a look on his face that says that he really wants to go over but doesn't have a good enough excuse to go over.

Ugh. _Men_.

"I wouldn't want to intrude. This is Flynn's day after all."

_Meeeeeeeeeen._

"You go in there and be a fun, funky father, or I'm telling Flayn the time you had to look up a YouTube tutorial on how to properly boil an egg."

"Half your paycheck still comes from me, I'll have you know, Ms. Goneril."

But that seems to do the trick, and with one parting eye roll, he heads on over to the rest of the group. He scoops up Flayn from behind, eliciting a delighted squeal from her, and the two take off as Lysithea chases after them with Marianne trailing behind.

"Very sneaky of you." Mercedes plops down on the bench next to her, fanning her face with her sun hat as she gives Hilda an all to knowing smile. "Giving him that little push."

Can't hide anything from Momcedes. Hilda hands over a water bottle with an innocent blink, which Mercedes accepts with a grateful nod. "Hey, it was either that or listen to him gush for another two hours." 

"Yes, how dare he act like a proud father to his only daughter," agrees Mercedes with an exaggerated huff, laughing when Hilda shoves her in the shoulder. "But that's enough about that. How are you doing? We haven't had all that much time to talk, what with all the goings-on happening around here."

That's true enough. Between Hilda's second job as the unofficial spokesperson for the sunshine girl and Mercedes's ongoing job search, it's actually a small miracle when they're both in the office at the same time nowadays.

"I'm doing good," Hilda says honestly. Mercedes raises an eyebrow, and Hilda rushes to clarify. "I mean, work's work. Seteth still tries to give me too many pieces before a deadline, and the office's fridge is on the fritz, so we have like two dozen packs of eggs to eat before they go bad, but..."

Unconsciously, her eyes drift over to where Marianne is. She has Lysithea in her lap, demonstrating to Flayn and Seteth how she does her braid. Flayn is nodding excitedly. Seteth looks serious enough that Hilda's half-expecting expecting him to whip out a pen and paper and start taking notes. Lystihea says something, probably something both snarky and endearing, and that gets a laugh out of Marianne, even as she tries to hide her smile behind her hand. 

"But it's not so bad," Hilda finishes with a small smile of her own.

Mercedes follows her gaze. "Ah. I see," she leans forward on her elbows, looking side-eyed at Hilda with a playful smile. "So. That's her. The illustrious sunshine girl. The one who's got you so smitten."

The only reason Hilda's cheeks are burning is because she's running a vitamin D deficiency thanks to all the clouds covering up the sun all the time and NOT because of Mercedes waggling her eyebrows at her.

"Smitten, who even says that anymore," she huffs out, crossing her arms.

"Oh?" Mercedes smile turns Cheshire. "So are you saying you DIDN'T spend an entire paycheck ordering materials to make a promise ring for her or am I misread-mmmph!"

"SHHHHH!!!" Hilda slaps a hand across Mercedes's mouth. "Not so loud, are you nuts?!" She glances over to the others. This time, all three of them are taking turns to braid Seteth's hair, who's expression is hilariously stoic. With a relieved sigh, she removes her hand. 

"Just my luck that _you_ had to be the one to answer the delivery man that day," she gripes as Mercedes's eyes twinkle. "It was my name on the package!"

"Just imagine if it was Seteth." Mercedes chirps back, and Hilda can't repress the shudder that runs up her spine because yeah, she's got her there. Could've been a lot worse. _A lot_. "How's it turning out, by the by? Can I see it? Pretty please?"

The smart answer would be no, but Hilda knows that Mercedes can be relentless when she sets her mind to it. With another glance to make sure the other's aren't looking over, she reaches into her purse and pulls out a small box.

Mercedes flips it open with a finger. Her eyes widen. "Oh. Hilda, this is... you've outdone yourself."

"You think so?" She may be an expert in crafting trinkets and accessories, but actual promise rings are on a whole nother level for her. The materials alone already cost her a small fortune. And since this was her first time ever trying to make one, the best she could do was a plain silver band with small, cut blue rhinestone in the middle. She twists the ring doubtfully in her hands."It's not too simple or boring, is it?"

"Hilda." Mercedes raises her head, looking at her seriously. "It's beautiful. She'll love it, trust me. That girl is as smitten with you as you are with her. Half the conversation I had with her was her asking about you and what you're like at work."

"Really?" Hilda says, a little too fast, and Mercedes laughs again when she blushes even harder.

"Really truly," she teases, and Hilda decides to just shut up right then and there before she can make an even bigger numbnut of herself. She turns away, staring off into the distance as her smile slowly softens.

"Look after each other, okay?"

Hilda glances quizzically over at her. There's something in the way she says it that makes her sound oddly pensive. But then again, this is Mercedes they're talking about. She can make any sentence sound ominous just by adding a little smile to the end.

Even though she's not smiling now.

"Suuuuure? I mean, not like we're not already doing that." Hilda scooches closer. "But what are you talking about? Did something happen?"

"Nothing," Mercedes says immediately and then pauses. "Just something silly I heard a while back. Forgot about it until now and... it's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Mercedes. What are you talking about."

The strawberry blonde's lips twitch. "It's just a superstition I heard. Like bad luck for walking under a ladder and the number thirteen. Nothing concrete."

She falls silent, long enough that Hilda starts to fidget in place. Finally, she lets out a sigh and pulls out her phone.

"Remember when we were doing research for the sunshine maiden before Seteth had us drop the story for lack of sources?"

"A... little?" Hilda frowns, trying to think back. "Wasn't it because the only guy alive who still remembered the old legends is like, 105 and super senile?"

"106," Mercedes corrects gently. "And remarkably coherent when the weather is just right." She scrolls down on her phone and opens up the notes app. "I did an interview with him, just to be thorough, and he said some things that I thought were... well..."

She chews the inside of her mouth a second before thrusting her phone into Hilda's hands. "See for yourself."

Alriiiiiight. Somehow that's ominous even without the smile. Bewildered, Hilda takes the phone and begins scrolling. Mercedes notes are still as neat and meticulous as Hilda remembers, and she quickly skims through the least exciting parts of the interview. Whoever the geezer is, he still has to ramble on for a good portion about everything and nothing. A few words stick out though: sunshine maiden, prayers to the goddess for the rains to stop, bountiful spring harvests, blah blah blah.

It's only near the end when she reads the words _ancient_ and _catastrophe_ put together, does Hilda sit straight up.

_And the rains will continue to pour, no matter how hard the maiden of the sun prays for them to stop. The lands will flood, returning to the ocean from whence they came, unless the maiden offers unto the goddess the boon she has been granted. And thus, the maiden of the sun will return once again to the goddess, as all things should, for the rains shall only cease when-_

"Excuse me?" Hilda stops reading right there, because this has to be a joke, right? A really off-brand joke that'll be funny in an hour or two, but not right now because it all hits in the wrong way. "This is... what is this crap that I'm even reading? It's a joke, right?"

"That's what I thought too," Mercedes interjects gently, laying a hand over Hilda's, and it takes Hilda a second to realize that her nails are biting into the folds of her skin. "I just wrote down the notes and took his account and forgot all about it afterward."

Mercedes hesitates for a second before going on. "But then you went and found yourself an actual, honest to goddess, maiden of the sun, and just like that, his story came back to me. And I thought..."

She trails off, and for the first time since Hilda's known her, she looks a little lost. 

"I thought you had a right to know."

Hilda snorts. She can't help it. Better to be skeptical than to acknowledge that creeping feeling curling up her spine. "To know... what exactly? Some stupid old fairy tale about one really rainy summer and that the people lost their minds their roofs leaking a bit much? Cool. Neat. Reality imitates fiction. Soooooo funny."

"To know that at the end of every summer, the goddess would descend upon the earth, taking those who bear her Crest as a sacrifice to the darkness of Zaharas to halt the impending calamity," Mercedes finishes quietly, and Hilda snaps her jaw shut hard enough that it hurts. "Or so the stories go."

"And that's all they are!" Hilda leaps up from the bench. Her legs are itching like crazy, and she has the sudden urge to start running in place, or jumping up and down, to do _something_ to get the restlessness out. "That's all they are. Just some lame old stories that people don't even remember anymore. Just stories!"

Even as she says that she realizes just how ridiculous she sounds trying to deny it. Apart from the brief moments where Marianne brings out the sun, she can't remember the last time the sun came out naturally on its own. Or if the rain has ever stopped since she got here. 

Nobody has a clue as to why it's all happening. It's impossible, people say until somebody points out to them that they're living the impossible, right now.

"They're just stories," Hilda says again, repeating it again in her mind so that she can believe it herself. "They've got nothing to do with us. They can't."

Mercedes looks away and up into the sky. The blue of the sky is marred with the encroaching gray clouds. A little farther away, Hilda can hear the unmistakable low growl of thunder. 

"For all our sakes," says Mercedes, eyes fixed on the rapidly darkening sky. "I hope you're right."

\---

Seteth calls an end to their little playdate when Flayn starts having trouble catching her breath, and the humidity gets almost unbearable. The bus ride back to Marianne's apartment is unusually quiet what with Marianne being worn out and Hilda being... distracted. Lysithea even tries to make conversation, but after a few aborted attempts, she gives up and spends the rest of the trip exchanging not so subtle glances with her sister as the weather gets steadily worse and worse.

By the time they hop off the bus and make it back to the apartment, the light afternoon shower has fully upgraded into some kind of freak mini hurricane, complete with a torrential downpour and buffeting winds. There's a brief scuffle for who gets to use the bath first that Hilda wins (undefeated rock-paper-scissors champion in this house suck it).

"Hey, Mari," she sticks her head from out behind the bathroom door, shaking out the bands in her hair. "You remember if we did laundry yet? I can't find my towel... Mari?"

Marianne is standing in the entryway, staring out the peephole, her entire frame tense. Behind her, Lysithea is hanging onto the hem of her shirt, tugging nervously. 

"Hilda," Marianne says carefully, not looking away from the peephole, and way she says it instantly puts Hilda on guard. "Could you stay inside the bathroom for a little longer?"

"What? Why? Who's out there?"

Marianne finally looks away from the peephole. 

"I... I think it's the police."

Oh.

_Crap._

Without another word, she ducks back into the bathroom, flips off the lights, and clamps her mouth shut. The police. Every single curse that Hilda knows runs through her head as she tries her best not to breathe. 

Careless. Stupid, sloppy, _careless_. Of course, her parents would get the police involved after she ran away. It's gotta look bad on the ol' family name if they can't even control one headstrong daughter. She's only surprised it took them _this_ long to get the authorities involved. 

The low murmur of voices from outside piques her curiosity despite the fear. Carefully, she slides the door open just a _sliver_ and peeks out.

Two men are standing just outside the entryway. The taller one is dressed entirely in black, a sour expression on his sunken face that looks like it could be right at home in some Halloween store. His partner, on the other hand, is an eyewatering display of brilliant orange and blue, bright face with just a hint of boyishness. He's the only one who at least looks slightly apologetic as he introduces himself. 

"Ah, good evening miss!" He removes his cap and nods solemnly. "My apologies for bothering you this late. I am Officer Ferdinand Aegir, and this is my partner, Detective Hubert Vestra. Could we perhaps have a minute of your time?"

Hilda can't see Marianne's expression from this angle, but the unmistakable hunch of her shoulders and the way she tries to hide behind the door makes it obvious to everyone how she feels. 

"O-of course, officers," she says, placing a hand on Lysithea's shoulder and gently pushing her behind her leg, out of view. "What, erm, s-seems to be the p-problem."

Officer Aegir opens his mouth, but the detective speaks up before him.

"Hilda Valentine Goneril," he says bluntly, and Hilda feels her stomach turn to _ice_. "Are you by any chance familiar with this individual?"

The pause that follows stretches on for a second _too_ long

"...No," Marianne says after the pause. "I've never heard of h-her. Why? Did she do s-something?"

The detective and officer exchange inscrutable glances. "As of now, nothing, save for being a runaway," says the detective, his tone a dangerous mix of oil and ice. "But we have eyewitness testimonies saying she was seen in the company of known members of the organized crime ring, _Those Who Slither in the Dark."_

Those who- what?

WHAT?!

When?! HOW EVEN?? Hilda nearly falls off her feet. A Slitherer? HER? There's no way she's interacted with someone that slimy since she got here. She didn't even know gangs like that could even exist in Garreg Mach before Seteth told her, for crying out loud.

"I... wouldn't know anything about that," says Marianne, arriving at the same conclusion as Hilda, the confusion in her voice completely genuine.

"Really. How strange," remarks the detective in an offhand way that the serial killers in movies use when they're discussing either the weather or murdering someone in their sleep. "Seeing as we have CCTV footage of you being accosted by known Slitherers, while someone who looks remarkably like the suspect helps you escape shortly thereafter."

Those two goons in the alley. The ones who were trying to get Marianne to come work in their sleazy cabaret and the one Hilda dumped into the garbage. _Those guys, are you for real?!?!?_

_"_ O-oh." Marianne sounds more than a little caught off guard. "Y-yes... I-I mean, no!" she stammers out when Lysithea tugs frantically at her shirt. "Th-that did happen... b-but I didn't k-know her, or w-who she was. She... she was just there at the time."

"Just there at the time..." the detective repeats smoothly, looming in the doorway. "How lucky for you then."

"V-very lucky." Marianne agrees in perhaps some of the worst false-acting Hilda has ever seen. "I-if that's all then..."

"Actually, could we perhaps speak to your guardians?" the officer pipes up, oblivious to how both Marianne and Lysithea visibly stiffen at the word guardians. He takes a card out of his wallet and hands it over. "We'd like to get their statements of events that day. For our records, you understand."

Marianne takes the card, says something, but Hilda doesn't hear her. She backs away from the door, sitting down slowly on the bathtub rim, palming her face as the last five minutes play out in her mind.

_Shit._

How in the hell did this even happen? Everythings gone pear-shaped way too fast. In less than two hours, she's gone from Hilda Valentine Goneril, junior editor, unofficial spokesperson for the sunshine girl, to Hilda Valentine Goneril, runaway and suspected associate of _Those Who Slither in the Dark._

What. The. HELL.

Hilda takes a deep breath. Focus. Getting pissed at some false charges isn't important right now. What is important is making sure their collective butts don't end up in some downtown juvie center in the morning because once they find out that Marianne's parents don't exactly, ya know, _exist,_ then it's goodbye independence and hello foster care system for them.

...Seteth. She needs to call him. There's no way she can go back to her job now, not with the police breathing down her neck. She needs to call him and... and... ask for a vacation. A really, _really_ long vacation. And maybe an advancement on her paycheck. Goddess, he's going to be _pissed_ when she doesn't show up for work tomorrow. It actually hurts to think about it, saying goodbye without telling him or Mercedes anything.

She takes out her phone, hitting speed dial one. The dial tone rings in her ear, and she bites at a nail, bad habits resurfacing for the first time in years tonight.

He picks up after the first ring.

"Ms. Goneril." Her boss's voice comes out slightly strained, but Hilda chalks it up to the crappy service, thanks to the mini-hurricane going on outside right now. "This is a... surprise, I was just about to call you myself."

Hilda lets out a nervous little trill. She can't help it. She's so nervous that it's a small miracle that even remember her own name at the moment. "Oh, really? Small world, haha." _Do it fast. Like ripping off a band-aid_. "Hey, so, I know this is out of the blue and all, but I'm gonna need to take some time off. Like, _a lot_ of time off."

She squeezes her eyes shut, waiting for the sentence. 

_Like ripping off a band-aid, just do it._

"That won't be necessary, Ms. Goneril."

Her eyes shoot open. 

"Uuhhh, say that again?"

There's a long drawn out pause.

"Certain matters have been brought to my attention recently," he says after the pause, and this time she knows the strain in his voice isn't from the crappy cell service. "Matters regarding your... status and family."

The cops. Of course they'd check the place where she works. It was probably the first place they checked. Of _freaking_ course.

"What did they tell you." Her phone creaks dangerously in her grip. "What did you say to _them?_ "

"Absolutely nothing," he answers immediately, and her grip slackens, just a fraction. "But... Ms. Goneril." He sighs, voice crackling in the speakers.

"Hilda," he says again, and she jolts. "I will be blunt with you. It will be in the best interests of all concerned if you seek employment elsewhere. You have to understand, this is a... delicate time, what with Flayn's custody hearing coming up so soon. I cannot afford that kind of scrutiny right now. Not... not when I'm so close to bringing her home."

There's a buzzing in Hilda's head, growing louder and louder. It makes the voice coming from her phone seem tiny and weak in comparison. She can't think. Can barely even breathe.

"I won't try and make any excuses." Seteth's voice is gentler than Hilda's ever heard it before, and it makes it everything somehow even worse. "But for what it's worth, I am truly sorry."

Hilda closes her eyes. She can't hear anything. The silence is deafening.

"Yeah, sure, thanks. Whatever helps you sleep at night, boss." The words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, dripping with venom. "I'm sure if Flayn's mom was still around, she would've thought that you're doing the right thing too, huh?"

Hilda regrets the words as soon as they fall from her lips. There's a sharp intake of breath on the line.

"Go home, Ms. Goneril." Her boss's voice is missing the guilt from earlier, replaced with cold iron. "You may still be young, but we all have to grow up sooner rather than later."

And with that, the line goes dead.

Hilda stares dumbly at the phone in her hand. Burnt bridges and no going back.

The buzzing in her head is a dull roar. Everything's moving too quickly for her to keep up with. Everything turning wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, _wrong._

Suddenly, the bathroom feels too small. Small, stuffy, stifling. Hilda stands up, staggers to the door, and fumbles it open.

The first thing she see's is Marianne sitting on the couch with Lysithea tucked in her lap. The younger girl has her face buried in her sister's neck as Marianne gently strokes her hair.

"I'll think of something," she whispers softly. Lysithea makes a sniffling noise, and her grip tightens. "I won't let them take us away from each other. Never."

Burning the bridge with Seteth was bad enough. But this? This guilt hurts like nothing ever before. This would've never have happened if she hadn't convinced Marianne to become the sunshine girl. If she hadn't run away from home. If they had never _met._

But what's worse than the burning guilt, is the look in Marianne's eyes when she finally notices Hilda standing in the archway. The sadness in her eyes that morphs into relief when she sees her, the absolute trust in her small smile, as if just having her nearby makes her stronger. 

As if a little bit of hope is all they need to survive the coming storm. 

And Hilda can't lose that hope in Marianne's eyes. She can't. 

The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them.

"Let's run away."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spot the references IF YOU DARE

Marianne packs just the essentials- clothes, some quick snacks, the Ipad, and an old photograph of her adoptive mother and father. Lysithea follows her example, except she insists on packing the unicorn plush too ("Dorte has to come! Mom and Dad told us to look after him!!"). Marianne finally relents when Hilda offers to take up the extra baggage herself since all she really has to carry are the clothes on her back and her smartphone. 

Traveling light is an understatement. Then again, not like she can waltz back into the office to pick up her stuff unless she wants a one way trip to jail. 

The plan is to head straight into the heart of Garreg Mach to the transit center. From there, they can catch a bus that'll take them right out of the city and somewhere else. Anywhere else. Just... wherever that isn't Garreg Mach. The plan's still a work in progress, but whatever, they'll cross that bridge when they get there.

Too bad, the Goddess has other plans. 

"Whaddya mean there aren't any buses leaving the city right now?!"

The absolutely dead glare the transit center clerk gives Hilda would be actually kinda impressive on any other day. But right now, she's sopping wet and freezing, having walked through twelve city blocks through hurricane-force winds and rain, just to find out that the only thing the buses are doing tonight is staying the hell put. So the transit clerk can stick his dead fish-eye glare somewhere else because right now, she cannot. DEAL. 

"Ma'am, it's too dangerous for our drivers right now to go out in that weather. Service is delayed until the morning, and even then, the routes may still not be safe enough to travel." 

Psh, easy for him to say, all he has to do is watch buses all day. Not like he's the one being falsely accused of being a Slitherer and hounded by the police while his ex-boss leaves him out to hang and dry like some leftover-

Hilda takes a deep breath. 

"Fine. Is there somewhere nearby we can spend the night?"

The clerk scoffs. "At this time? Good luck. You'd be better off just sleeping in the station."

Hilda glances around the station at every single joe schmoe crammed into the small space. Sardines stuffed in a can doesn't even begin to describe it. Not to mention that the heater is broken, so everyone here is some charming variation of royally _pissed off._

She catches Marianne's eye, who gives her a very subtle shake of the head before looking down at Lysithea, who's nodding off while standing.

That's all Hilda needs to know.

"I think we'll take our chances."

\---

Turns out, their chances aren't great.

Every single hotel, from the ritzy upscaled chains to literal holes in the walls, seems to be booked from now to the next century. Which, fine, is totally fair, since people are trying to take shelter from the horrendous weather going on. But did they have to do it now of all times?!

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to stay in your hotel anyway! It probably has cockroaches. Or mold. Or both! Moldy cockroaches!"

With that last parting shot to the stuck-up concierge, Hilda stomps out of the hotel and back into the pouring rain where Marianne and Lysithea are waiting.

"No good, sorry." Hilda runs a frustrated hand through her hair, breathing through her nose. That's the tenth hotel that's turned them away now. At this point, they're going to have to go back to the bus station and spend the night there anyway. Ugh.

With a sigh, she pulls out her phone and opens up the map app. 

"I think there are a few more hotels on the street we can check out. You guys okay with that?"

She's expecting resigned acceptance from Marianne, a snarky complaint from her sister, but after a few seconds with no reply, she looks up. 

"Uh, guys? Mari?"

Marianne is staring from out beneath the awning at the sky, a look in her eyes that's a strange mix of awed and horrified. Lysithea huddles close to her, clutching at her hand, eyes also fixed to the sky. Bewildered, Hilda follows their gaze and looks up.

And see's the first snowflake falling to the ground.

Wait.

_What._

Her brain makes them out to be feathers at first. Really, really small, chilly feathers that some kid lost from their pillow on the way to shelter. But that doesn't make a lick of sense, and when she unconsciously sticks out her hand to catch one, it's so cold it actually stings.

Snow. And not just little light snowflakes perfect for Christmas. Thick, powdery snow, the kind that piles up and freezes you to your core.

"What..." Marianne stares up into the sky, her breathless exclamation coming out in a puff of cold air, clutching at Lysithea's shoulder protectively. "What is _happening?_ "

_And thus, the maiden of the sun will return once again to the Goddess, as all things should, for the rains shall only cease when-_

No. No, shut up, shut up, shut up. Hilda ruthlessly shoves the voice away. Locks it up and throws away the key. They're just stupid stories. Nothing bad is going to happen. Nothing. Not if she has any say in it.

"C'mon." She grabs Marianne's hand, solid and warm and real against hers, and nudges them forward. "Let's keep moving."

\---

Hilda's not sure how long they wander the streets, drifting from one rejection to the next as the snow steadily intensifies, bitter cold biting down into her bones. She's not dressed for this weather. Heck, she's barely dressed as is in her summer top and shorts with only a puny rain slicker thrown over it all. 

Lysithea is the first to give in. 

"Sis..." her voice comes out closer to a whimper, sheer exhaustion making her shoulders slump. "Can... can you make it stop. Just for... a second?"

They're somewhere downtown, in one of the seedier districts in Garreg Mach. The only people walking about right now are few and far between, poor schmucks down on their luck like them, drifting aimlessly in the snow for a place to hole up for the night.

Marianne nervously scans the street, before looking beseechingly at Hilda. 

"I suppose... I could. Just until we find somewhere to stay?"

The responsible decision would be to say no because a risk is still a risk, no matter the situation. But right now, Hilda's freezing cold and her teeth are at risk from shattering with how hard she's clenching her jaw.

So instead, she just nods. Once.

The questioning look in Marianne's eyes disappears, replaced with resolve. With a firm nod, she closes her eyes and brings her hands together, muttering quietly beneath her breath to bring about the change in the weather.

The snow continues to fall, the cold wind biting at her cheeks. 

Marianne's mouth pulls into a painful grimace. Beads of sweat being forming along her brow, despite the cold as her skin turns pale.

Something's wrong. 

_Wrong. All wrong._

"Mari," Hilda begins to say and then freezes as she feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Above, the clouds in the sky crackle.

"Marianne, _stop!_ " 

Marianne lets out a pained cry and falls to her knees, clutching at her head.

The clouds break.

**_CRACK!_ **

A blinding light and earsplitting roar fill all of Hilda's senses, blowing her off her feet and into the wall behind her. The back of her head hits brick, and her vision turns into gray static.

For one horrifying second, Hilda thinks she goes blind. But then, slowly, the gray starts to fade, and her vision begins to return in bits and pieces. She can smell burnt ozone lingering in the air, and she just manages to resist the urge to gag.

" _HILDA!_ Oh Goddess, are you alright, Hilda?! Hilda! Answer me, please, oh no no no..."

She can barely hear Marianne's hysterical sobbing over the piercing, ringing in her ears. _"_ Mmm'fiiiii'," she tries to say, voice coming out of some strange tunnel, and she tries again. 

"Fine. I'm... fine." 

"You are certainly NOT fine!!" Lysithea's face butts into her vision, barely contained panic seeping into her expression. "That lightning bolt nearly electrocuted you!!!"

"But it didn't." Hilda staggers to her feet, and Marianne rushes to her side, steadying her. The spots are starting to clear now, and she can just make out a blackened scorch mark on the ground a few feet in front of her, just inches from where she was standing a few seconds ago. A chill runs down her spine, but she shoves it away.

Lysithea opens her mouth to retort, but before she can, Marianne beats her to it.

"My fault." She's staring at the scorch mark, a look in her eyes that Hilda doesn't like one bit. "My fault, all my fault, it's all my fault, no, no, no."

Something in her voice cuts through the fog in Hilda's mind. 

"No. Marianne. Marianne, look at me. Please." 

She grabs the taller girl by the shoulder, forcing their eyes to meet. Hilda's own heart breaks a little when she sees the absolutely devastated look on her face. 

"Listen. It was just a freak accident. You had no idea this was going to happen, so don't you dare start blaming yourself, okay? None of this was your fault. None." 

The ringing in her ears is getting louder, and with a cold shock, she realizes that it's not ringing, but police sirens blaring out in the distance. Of all the times the police decide to be productive, it has to be _now._

"We need to go, Marianne. Right now. Please."

For one terrifying second, she's not sure if Marianne will listen. But then, some of the light returns to her eyes. She shudders and then nods as if waking up from a nightmare.

"I... Right. Need... need to go. Right."

Not the most resounding agreement, but it'll have to do. Nodding, Hilda takes her hand and pulls her away from the sound of the incoming sirens. Lysithea latches onto her sister's side as soon as she gets near.

"I'm sorry," Marianne whispers, and Hilda doesn't say anything, just squeezes her hand tighter as the snow falls even harder.

\---

The shady little hostel they manage to find an hour later is probably one of the most suspect places Hilda's ever stepped foot in. Calling it a respectable establishment would be generous since the prices are inflated to the point that it's highway robbery, but Hilda's too tired to argue and swipes her credit card through the reader without complaining. She'd take a cardboard box beneath a leaky sink at this point, just as long as it got them out of the snow and cold.

Inside the room is a totally different story. The décor is... well, there's no nice way to say it, it's _tacky._ And not a funny kind of tacky, more like the trying-too-hard-to-be-rich-it's-sad kind of tacky. Like cheap gold leafing on every visible surface and heart-shaped water bed kind of tacky. But hey, beggars can't be choosers. At the very least, it's warm and dry, and the mini-fridge is stocked with all sorts of instant food.

Dinner's more than a little quiet and awkward. Partly because they're all exhausted, but also because no one wants to bring up the elephant in the room. Even after they eat their fill, Hilda spends most of her time trying to catch Marianne's eye and being studiously ignored.

That is until Lysithea discovers the karaoke machine hiding beneath the TV cabinet.

At first, no one really wants to sing. But then Lysithea pulls up the opening to the Saturday morning anime that she insists that she doesn't watch (the TV was on that channel when I flipped it on, and Neo Featherman Rangers just happened to be playing, that's all!) and it pretty much devolves from there.

" _Been looking everywhere for you, I followed the sound of your innocent laughter, and it guided me in the right way."_

Hilda throws a wink in Marianne's direction, who's finally smiling again despite herself, even as she tries to hide her face in her hands. Lysithea is gagging, trying to take the mic away, but Hilda fends her off. Hoe anthems are out since there are children present, so to make up for that, Hilda's picking every sappy pop song in the catalog because it drives the little gremlin insane. And also because it makes Marianne blush and finally break out into giggles too. Bonus!

" _Even if every piece of you disappeared and if it scattered everywhere no, I won't waver, I'll start back at one, look for you all over again._ _Or maybe instead, I'll take the whole universe right back to zero again."_

Somehow, despite all that's happened the previous few hours, all that crap, Hilda manages to turn their little run-away-from-home into an impromptu girl's night sleepover. Karaoke night turns into charades, pictionary, even a game of UNO with a deck Lysithea snuck into her backpack. One game after another, fast and nonstop, no time to pause and catch their breath. 

Hilda stuffs herself on enough chips and candy and drinks until her stomach hurts, and she feels like a bloated weather balloon. Lysithea manages to win every poker game just by mentally calculating the remaining cards in the deck. Marianne laughs hard enough at everything and nothing until tears spring to her eyes. 

Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow, they'll have to find a way to get out of the city. Tomorrow, they'll need to start budgeting their cash and finding cheaper places to hide. Tomorrow, they'll have to return to reality and make the best of their situation.

But that's tomorrow. Right now, all Hilda wants is tonight to last.

\---

"My first kiss? Going in for the hard ones, huh, Mari?"

Hilda leans back on her pillow, careful not to jostle the water bed and wake up Lysithea, who's snoring on the opposite side of Marianne, Dorte the unicorn clutched close to her chest. She taps her chin thoughtfully, trying not to smirk as Marianne stares at her intently, waiting on tenterhooks for her answer.

"Sorry. This is my first time playing 20 questions. You don't have to answer if you don't want to," she offers, despite the attentive look on her face.

"Nah, it's cool. I was just thinking. It was back in... middle school, I think. I got dared by one of my friends into kissing the transfer student from Almyra. For some reason, we thought it'd be really funny if we could convince him people from Fodlan greet each other with kisses."

Even in the dimmed light from the desk lamp, she can see the sleepy smile that makes its way across Marianne's face. 

"And how did that work out for you?"

Hilda scoffs. "Funny story that because right afterward, he says, oh yeah, I forgot to mention, but according to Almyran tradition, we have to get married now. And I'm like, just a stupid middle-schooler so I freak out like any middle schooler would, of course, and I'm calling my parents and telling them I screwed up and apologizing and telling them we have to move to Almyra now when he falls over and starts laughing so hard that he's crying. Which is when I realize that I just got played by the new kid. Me! Lil ol' innocent Hilda! Can you believe it?"

Marianne is laughing softly into her hand. 

"I... I don't want to say it was deserved. But..."

"It totally was." Hilda finishes, dropping the offended act with a smile as Marianne giggles again. "So anyway, that's the story of my first kiss and how I met my best friend." 

She props herself on her elbow, turning so that she can play with Marianne's hair, illuminated softly in the dim light. 

"How about you? What was your first kiss like?"

"Me?"

Marianne leans back onto her pillow, looking up at the ceiling, adorable thinking face on. 

"Well... my first kiss... it was during the summer."

"Ooooh, a summer romance, huh?" Hilda scooches eagerly closer, and Marianne ducks her head, trying to hide her embarrassed smile. "So bold, Marianne! So daring!"

Marianne pushes halfheartedly at her shoulder in a way that's supposed to be admonishing, but all it is is really, super cute. 

"A-as I was saying, my first kiss was during the summer... right around the White Heron festival. The rain had just stopped, and the fireworks were going off in the sky."

It takes a second for Hilda to realize what Marianne is going for, but when she does, she can't help the big, stupid smile that appears on her face. Cute. So. Freaking. Cute!!!

"Uh-huh. Summer festival and fireworks. I like where this is going." Hilda leans in even closer, eyes shining. "And then what happened?"

Even in the dim light, Hilda can see the tip of Marianne's ear turn red. 

"A-and, umm... we talked a bit. I-I told her how happy I was... a-and how happy she made me. A-and just before the fireworks stopped, you. I-I mean, um, she. She." 

Marianne swallows thickly. 

"She... kissed me."

Marianne ducks her face into her pillow, and Hilda's just about ready to squeal and lose her mind when Marianne suddenly lifts her head again and stares Hilda straight in the eyes.

"A-and that's when I-I realized, o-oh." She takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I think... I'm in l-love."

Hilda's heart stutters, stumbles, and stops.

That's just-

Mariane- she can't-

_Arrrrrrughlhghhhhgh._

_"_ Not fair." Now Hilda's the one with her face in the pillow as her heart restarts itself and begins sending all the blood straight to her cheeks and setting them on fire. "You can't just say things like that and- and expect me to be okay, Mari," she whines, kicking her legs back and forth. "It's. Not. Faaaaaaaaaaaair."

There's a quiet, amused chuckle. "I'm... sorry?"

Hilda lifts her head up and glares halfheartedly. "You're so totally not. But you will be!"

She bounces up from the bed, dashing over to her backpack, and taking out the box with the ring in it. She's running on pure emotion right now, a heady rush of warmth taking over all rational decision making in her brain.

"There!" she flops back on the bed, pushing the box towards Marianne with more bravado than she actually feels. "Now we're even!"

Marianne pulls the box towards her, curiosity written all over her face. She hesitates only for a second before she undoes the clasp and flips it open. 

"Oh!" Her eyes widen, and she puts a shocked hand to her mouth. "This... I-I... _Hilda._ "

The bravery from earlier is evaporating faster than a rainy puddle out beneath the summer sun. "I know, it's a little lame looking. A-and some of the stuff I used for the inlay is kinda c-cheap, I guess." 

Holy crap, is she stuttering? That's never happened before to her, ever. 

"I can get you a better one, I swear. Something professional?"

But Marianne just shakes her head furiously, clutching the ring to her chest. 

"No! This... this is perfect." Her face scrunches up in a way that twists at Hilda's heart. "It's... this... I-I can't... I'm sorry."

And to Hilda's abject terror, the tears begin to fall. The tears start to fall, and she tries to brush them away.

"I can't... I'm sorry," she says again, tears choking her voice, and Hilda feels a little part of her own heart crack. "I'm so sorry, Hilda."

"Hey, hey..." Hilda reaches out, placing a hand on the other girl's shoulder, even as her own mind races through all the possibilities of why Marianne would react so... _badly. "_ It's... it's okay. It's fine."

But Marianne just shakes her furiously. "It's not... It's not... o-okay." She's sobbing quietly, the raw emotion in her voice coloring each word. "N-nothing's o-o-okay!! For the first time ever, I know how it feels like to- to be _alive._ B-but now... _"_

"Marianne. _"_ Hilda hates how shaky her voice sounds at that moment. It's so weak. Pathetic. _Scared._ "What are you talking about?"

For a second, all Hilda gets in response is quiet sobbing. Then, slowly, Marianne sits up, and Hilda scrambles to follow.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers brokenly before she pulls down the shoulder of her robe.

Hilda's first reaction is to instinctively look away, but something catches her eye. There's a weird splotch on her shoulder, hazy in the dim lighting. A bruise? Or... a tattoo? But then Hilda peers closer and...

And her breath stops.

It's not a tattoo or a bruise. The only thing that even comes close is a bubble just about to pop, shimmering and translucent. Hilda would almost call it beautiful if it weren't for the fact that Marianne's entire shoulder is _see-through._

"It started right after I prayed for the snow to stop." 

Marianne lifts the hems of her robe, and Hilda notes with some kind of numb horror at the small glass-like patches dotting her legs, like some sort of watery cancer. 

"I knew something was wrong then. I... I could _feel_ it. Like something in me was missing." 

She drops the hem, mercifully hiding the spots out of sight, and fixes Hilda with a pathetic smile that doesn't even reach her eyes. 

"I think... at that moment, I heard the Goddess's voice call out to me. Telling me to... to be prepared for-"

"Bull," Hilda cuts her off, not caring if she's being a jerk right now. "You didn't hear jack. You... you were just tired and exhausted. Things like hearing the Goddess in your head are just fairy tales. Stupid little stories that parents tell their kids to scare them into eating their vegetables and going to bed on time. That's-" her voice catches in her throat, and she takes a breath. "That's all they are! Fairy tales and- and make-believe!"

"Then why," whispers Marianne, and Hilda falls silent. She takes a deep, broken breath.

"Why does it feel like part of me is fading away?"

And for once, Hilda doesn't have an answer.

"I... I don't know," she admits softly. "But... there's one thing I'm a hundred percent certain of."

She reaches out and grabs Marianne's hand, needing to feel the warmth of her palm in her own. Needs to feel that Marianne's is right here, and not fading away.

"I won't give up on you. No matter what may happen or what the Goddess throws our way, I won't give up on you." She whispers fiercely as her eyes begin to sting. Every ounce of conviction she has, she pushes into trying to believe her own words. It has to be enough. It has to be. 

"So please, don't give up on yourself."

Something flickers in Marianne's dead gaze. She stares down at their entwined hands, expression unreadable.

And then it breaks.

"I... I want to live," she whispers like some sort of shameful secret and Hilda's heart breaks. 

"I want to live so much it hurts. I want to feel the sun on my skin again and see the smile on everyone's face when the rain stops. I want to laugh and cry and smile and do all those things again and again and never stop."

She pauses, a deep, shuddering sigh escapes her lips, and even in the dim light, Hilda can see the tears trickle down her cheeks.

"But most of all, I want to be the sunshine girl again. One more time, with you."

And that's all Hilda needs to hear.

"Then do that! Be the sunshine girl!" Hilda whispers fiercely, trying to convey all of her emotions in just words. Words that aren't enough. "Don't let some fake goddess or anyone else tell you how to live! I'll be right here next to you, every step of the way."

For a long moment, Marianne is silent. But then she lifts her head, and the light in her eyes shines, tears mixed with hope.

"You promise?"

"I promise." Hilda leans forward, picking up the discarded ring box and takes out the ring, sliding it on Marianne's finger. The tears begin to fall even harder, and Hilda knows she's crying now too, but she doesn't look away from the sunshine girl, not even one second.

"I'll always be with you, no matter what," she avows to the sunshine girl. "I promise."

\---

_The darkness is suffocating. Blinding. An unseeable force that smothers her in all directions. She can't see a thing, not even her own hand when she waves it in front of her face._

_But she can feel the rain. Feels every single drop lash into her skin like a thousand stinging needles. Feels the rivulets drip down the curve of her spine, chilling her to the very bone._

_In the darkness, she can hear the sound of sobs._

_She tries walking, but each step is like wading through a mire. Her body is too slow and weighed down by the rain and darkness._

_Where are you?_

_The darkness swallows up the sound of her voice._

_The crying grows fainter._

_Fear takes ahold of her heart. She runs and stumbles, heart screaming in her throat. But no sound comes out._

_You said you'd always be there._

_The falling rain is deafening._

_Don't go._

_"_ -da."

_You promised. You promised that'd it would be okay._

_"_ -ilda, wake-"

_But you're not here. You lied. You lied lied lied lied lied lied lIED-_

_"_ Wake up!!!!"

Freezing cold water hits her face, and with a gasp, Hilda starts awake, coughing and hacking.

"What the..." she coughs again, feeling her lungs crying out for air. Before she can ask again, Lysithea is suddenly in her face, putting a hand over her mouth. 

"Shhhh!!!"

"Are you insane, don't shush me you little-!" 

There's a knock at the door, and Hilda stops.

"This is the GMPD." The door rattles on its hinges, and they both flinch. With a cold start, Hilda recognizes that voice. It's that policeman from last night. Officer Aegir. 

The door groans as the pounding grows louder. 

"Open up! We have a warrant to search the premises if needed!"

Crap.

_Crap._

Hilda leaps up from the bed, nearly tripping when her foot catches the sheets. She kicks open the suitcase, grabbing the first thing she see's and tosses it in.

"We need to go. Now." Her thoughts are whirling in her head. They can climb out the fire escape, but the rollers will have to stay behind. How did the police even find them?! Had to be the receptionist. Thought he looked like a shady prick. Stupid, rotten luck.

She straightens up. Lysithea hasn't moved an inch from her spot on the bed, and Hilda nearly screams in frustration. 

"What part of need to go now do you not understand?!" she hisses.

Lysithea opens her mouth.

"I can't find sis."

Hilda freezes.

No. 

No, no, no, _no._

She drops the suitcase, not caring about the loud clang it makes when it hits the floor, and dashes straight into the bathroom, hands scrabbling for the light switch.

The lights flicker on.

An empty bathtub. Toothbrushes placed neatly in their respective cups. Used towels littering the floor.

Nothing.

Hilda can't breathe.

"No, no, no, no."

She stumbles out the bathroom, heart pounding. There aren't any other places in the room she could be. Nowhere else.

Out of sheer desperation, she stumbles over to the sliding door leading to the outdoor balcony. The curtains are drawn tight, and without a second thought, she grabs on them and pulls.

The sun shines in her eyes, blinding her with a vengeance. 

Hilda stares. For a second, her brain refuses to understand what she sees. It's a warm summer day like any other day. Clouds drift lazily above as the sky looms over her, clear blue as far as the eye can see.

But it's wrong. Where are the rainclouds? The snow? The rumble of thunder and flashes of lightning. Where did it all go?

_Wrong. All_ _wrong._

There's a bang from the hallway, and she hears Lysithea whimper. She turns around, but before she can even register what's happening, her arm is wrenched back, and she's forced face-first into the bed.

"Hilda Valentine Goneril, you are hereby under arrest." That voice. The detective. Vestra. "The charges include suspected kidnapping, resisting arrest, and association with known members of _Those Who Slither in the Dark._ You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

_Go to hell,_ is what she wants to say, but there's no air in her lungs, she can't even breathe. 

Her head is forced up. Officer Aegir is kneeling in front of Lysithea, talking to her in a low murmur, even as she flinches further away from him.

"Your sister, where is she? Please, we must find her." When she doesn't respond, he switches tracks. "I found this on the bed where you were sleeping. Would this happen to be hers by any chance?"

He shows her something in his hand. 

A small silver band, with a blue rhinestone placed in the middle that shines faintly when it catches the light. 

Something inside Hilda _breaks_.

_"Give that back!!"_

She lunges, ripping her arm out of the detective's grip. It's not his. It's Marianne's. It's hers. Hilda promised it was hers. She _promised._

Lysithea screams.

_"Hilda!!"_

That's the only warning Hilda gets before her vision goes white. 

A brief second of blinding, searing pain at the back of her neck.

And then.

Silence.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually quite like Hubert I can't believe I'm doing my boi dirty like this sorrymasen ToT

There's a pulsing dull ache in Hilda's head when she finally comes to.

With a groan, she lifts her head. Aaaaand instantly regrets all her life decisions as a wave of nausea and pain crashes into her. Her brain is _throbbing_ like somebody used it as their own personal punching bag before stuffing it back into her skull. 

Blagh.

She takes a shuddering breath. Then another. When the pain finally subsides back into something resembling even remotely manageable, she hesitantly opens her eyes.

Dimly lit room, concrete walls, shady over-head light. A non-descript aluminum table in front of her with a chair on the opposite end. When she turns around in her chair to look behind, the only thing she see's is a stark steel door, gray and imposing.

And oh yeah. Handcuffs. 

Experimentally, she lifts her hands and rattles them around a bit. Pulls hard at a cuff.

Yep. Those are the real deal. 

With a sigh, Hilda drops her hands onto the table. Either she's stuck in purgatory, or she just so happens to be locked up in the most cliche version of a police interrogation room ever. And if her headache is anything to go by, it's not purgatory.

She should take pictures to show Marianne and Lysithea. They'd get a kick out of it. Well, Lysithea would because she's made up of fifty percent spite, and this is exactly the sort of situation she'd make fun of. Marianne would probably freak out, wondering how she ended up in the police station in the first-

The memories come back to her in a rush, and Hilda gasps, trying to catch her breath. The pounding in her head returns with a vengeance.

Marianne. Gone. She's gone. She's- 

No. 

Hilda furiously shakes her head, despite the pain and nausea. Not gone. Not a chance. She's still out there. Somewhere. All alone.

Hilda leaps to her feet, ignoring the pain in her head, and strides to the door. She needs to get out. Break out. Something. Every second locked up is a second wasted.

The first kick to the door doesn't do anything. The second just makes her foot go numb. The third one actually gets a reaction.

"Oi, quit it!"

Someone bangs on the door back, and Hilda leaps at the opportunity.

"Let me out!" She kicks the door again. "This is abuse! I haven't done anything wrong!"

A loud disbelieving snort comes from the other side.

"Yeah, sure. Says the _Slitherer_."

Oh for crying- not this _crap_ again. Hilda glares daggers at the door. She goes out of her way to save one pretty girl from a douchebag, and suddenly, _she's_ the accomplice to the city's most notorious underground crime syndicate. How the hell is that fair?!

Hilda puts a little extra oomph into her next kick, and she's rewarded with a surprised yelp that's only a little satisfying.

"I wanna speak to my lawyer. I get a lawyer, right? I have to. I wanna speak to them. Now."

There's no response from the door. Maybe if she tries slapping it in a really obnoxious way, they'll start listening. Hilda rears back for another kick when the voice suddenly speaks up again.

"You know what, fine."

Hilda blinks, foot halfway outstretched. Well, hell, wasn't really expecting that to work. She really should try this 'kicking away your problems' trick more often.

"You get ten minutes with your lawyer. Back away from the door, and sit your butt down.

Ten minutes! Hell yes! More than enough time to make a break for it if she plays her cards right. 

Hilda dashes back to the chair, putting on her best innocent face, all wide-eyes, and pouty lips. If she's lucky, they'll be dumb enough to fall for it, and the rest is just faking a trip to the bathroom and sneaking out before they realize she's gone. 

...Okay, so maybe it's not a great plan. Or even a remotely good one. But it's the only one she has, so screw it.

The door opens with a low screech. Focus. Hilda blinks rapidly, trying to get her eyes to water just the right amount to make her look downright pathetic.

_Sucker won't even know what hit 'em._

Then her lawyer steps into view, and all her plans of escape go right out the window.

"Hey, shortstack."

Holst Valentine Goneril makes himself comfortable in the opposite chair, smoothing out the wrinkles in his three-piece suit. He looks just like how Hilda remembers- perpetual smile lines embedded into his cheeks, beard neatly trimmed, pink hair tied in a low ponytail that hangs over his shoulder. 

Almost like nothing's changed.

Almost.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

The sigh Holst lets out is way more dramatic than it needs to be, especially when he puts a hand over his heart like a victim.

"I hop on the first plane from home as soon as I hear they found my baby sister and this is the welcome I get? I'm doing fine, by the way, thanks for asking."

"Nobody did. What the hell are you doing here?" Hilda spits out. Another time, maybe she would've played along, played nice. But right now? Stuck in the back of some crappy closet that they call an interrogation room? Hell no. A thought hits her, and she glares. 

"It was dad, wasn't it? He sent you to make me come back home, didn't he?"

Holst's face scrunches, just for a second. Bullseye.

"He's royally pissed" he finally settles on saying after his face returns back to normal. Called it. Frankly, though, Hilda couldn't care less about how the old fart feels. Half the time, he had to be reminded that he had a daughter in the first place.

"Mom was too, for a little bit." Holst goes on, rubbing at his cufflinks. Definitely new, with how gaudy and shiny they are. "Now she's just... kinda mopey."

"Well, that's pretty much par for the course for both of them."

That gets an eye-roll out of him, at least.

"Don't be a brat, Hild. You know they love you."

Hilda guffaws. She can't help it. Yeah, right. And pigs can fly. They tolerate her. At best. And even then, that's stretching the truth. Holst's always been more important to the family name in the grand scheme of things. Who gives a hoot about the black sheep?

"Yeah? If that's the case, how come you're here, and they're not? Wait, wait, no," Hilda holds her hand up, pretending to think. "Lemme guess. Dad said he was too busy with work, and Mom's too blasted out of her mind to even know what's going on. Am I close?"

Her brother's face twists again. 

Bullseye.

"What are even you doing here, Hilda?" he asks, changing tracks. "Running away from home, committing crimes, assaulting an officer of the law. And that's just the tip of the iceberg, for Seiros's sake." He leans forward, propping his elbows on the table. "I couldn't believe it when they told me the charges. It's not you. It's not like you at all."

Oh. Ohhhhh, that's rich, especially coming from _him_. 

"Holst, I love you," she pauses and fixes him with the most pitying look she has, one that she reserves specifically for sweet summer children like him, "but you barely know the first thing about me."

For the first time since they started talking, the look of hurt that passes across his face is surprisingly genuine.

"Hild, come on, that's just cold."

"Oh, yeah?" Hilda leans back in the chair. "What's my favorite move?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" 

"Just answer the question."

He throws his hands up in exasperation. "For the love of- I don't know."

"Yeah, maybe that was too hard to start off with," she says slowly, the sarcasm dripping thick like honey. "That's okay. What's my favorite color."

He perks up. "Fuschia"

"Navy blue. How old was I when I broke my arm trying to climb the tree in the backyard? Oh, wait no, better yet, which arm was it?"

There's a muscle jumping furiously in her brother's jaw- like a demented bug scratching at the surface of the skin. 

"When did you finally realize I ran away from home? Or that I was missing? Did you even find the note I left?" Hilda takes a breath. "Did you even care?"

"Of course, we care!" Holst explodes. He pushes his chair back, stands up, runs a rough hand through his hair, and begins pacing. "Don't be stupid, Hild. Do you know how bad it makes us look if word got out that you went missing? It'd make the Goneril name a laughingstock in all of Leicester! We'd never live it down!"

And _there_ it is.

Hilda stares back, unflinching.

"Did you ever think," she says quietly, "that's exactly why I ran away in the first place?"

He whips around to face her. "What are you even talk..." he starts to say 

And then stops. 

"I...don't..." his steps come to a halt. "That's not..."

He turns to Hilda, the understanding dawning on his face too late.

"It was... us?"

Hilda doesn't say anything. 

Just nods. 

Once.

Holst's eyes widen. Slowly, he sinks back into the chair, the fight draining from his shoulders. His expression morphs. Confusion to realization. Realization to bare-faced shame.

And then finally to regret.

"I... had no idea, that's how you really felt." He says slowly, hearing the words for the first time. "I thought... you were just going through some rebellious phase. But... all this time..."

He closes his eyes, pinching his brow, looking fifty years older.

"I'm sorry, Hild. I never wanted to make you feel that way ever. I thought I was- I... dammit."

Something in Hilda's chest twinges, and slowly her scowl fades. It's always been impossible to stay mad at Holst for long. Because he's an idiot, for one, but also because he means everything he says, apologies and all. And, well, part of it is his fault for never being able to see the bigger picture outside of the Goneril title, for sure....but...

Holst... he's... he's not a _bad_ guy. Not an uncaring jerk like Dad and not criminally negligent like Mom. He's just... shockingly unaware of things that don't revolve around him or running the family business. It's his biggest strength and weakness.

Hilda looks at her brother, takes in his appearance. His signature look has always been put together and perfect, but there are some small details that she finally comes to notice. Like the faint, dark circles beneath his eyes, the nails bitten down to the quick, the odd creases in his suit, as if he spent the night sleeping on more than one uncomfortable airport couch.

Sure, he's always been Dad's perfect yes-man. Sure, he's always been the pride and joy of the Goneril name. Sure, he's always been a nagging, overbearing constant of a life that she doesn't want anything more to do with.

But...

But he's always been there for her too.

Just like a big brother.

"I'm not going back. I can't."

Holst doesn't say anything. There's no expression on his face, but Hilda knows that he's listening to every word.

"I finally found a place where I feel like I belong, Holst. With the people I love. Here, I'm not Holst's lazy little sister or that spoiled Goneril brat or whatever. Here, I'm just... me. Lil' ol' Hilda."

_A little rundown apartment tucked away in a small corner of the world. Messy, cramped, but filled to the brim with warmth and life._

_Teru teru bozu hanging from the window, their little smiles reflecting back at them in the glass._

_A shy smile that finally shows itself when the rain finally stops and the clouds break._

_And it feels... it all feels..._

"Like I'm finally home."

Holst doesn't say anything. Doesn't even move. His expression could be carved from marble, but Hilda matches him, unflinching. This is one fight she won't back down from. She won't.

The silence stretches on.

And then, Hilda spots it. Just a little twitch at the corner of his eye. A blink. A crack.

"Ahhh, hell. You've gotta be kidding me."

He puts his face in his hands and lets out an explosive sigh, all the tension leaking out of the room in one long breath. Before she can say anything, though, he continues.

"It happened. It finally happened, and I missed it. The moment my baby sister runs away to the big city and somehow," he throws his hands up in the air. "She manages to fall in love at the same time."

Ah. 

_Ah._

The tips of Hilda's ears prickle, turn hot. Well, he's not wrong. But... but gawwwds, he can be such a... a _brother,_ at the worst possible times!!!

"You've got zilch proof that's actually true." 

"I'm like 99% sure they air this same plot on the Hallmark channel during Christmas, I don't need the proof."

"I'm not saying anything more until I get to speak to my lawyer."

"I am your lawyer, numbnuts." 

"A lawyer who _doesn't_ watch the Hallmark channel."

The exasperated way he rolls his eyes to the ceiling hits Hilda with a wave of nostalgia so unexpected that it actually startles a laugh out of her, surprising them both. But then he starts chuckling too, and before long, both of them are laughing harder than the situation calls for. 

But weirdly, it feels good too. In some sort of strange cathartic way. Like tearing off a band-aid in one go. 

When they finally stop laughing, Hilda feels a thousand pounds lighter. Holst, too, if the weird combination of emotions in his eyes is anything to go by. Tired, that's for sure. But also amused, in a _well, what the hell can you do,_ sort of way. Like he's resigned himself to be on this crazy rollercoaster ride for the long haul.

"So?"

Hilda blinks back at him, wide-eyed and oh so innocent. "So what?"

"Don't play dumb. There's only one reason why you stayed so long in one place like you did. Heck, the only reason you're in a police interrogation room right now and not hopping the next flight to wherever is because you found something or someone here worth staying for. So spill." 

He props his hand in his chin, laying his elbow on the table and looks at her. "What's their name? Their looks? Dog or cat person, details, shortstack, I need 'em, c'mon."

Oh gawds, this is a conversation, a conversation they're having right now, in the back closet of the GMPD police station of all places. What the hell.

"Her name's Marianne." Holst's lights up like a little kid on Christmas morning, and she swears her ears are on fire at this point. "She's... gawds, she's like the sweetest thing, Holst."

"I'm sure."

"No, you don't understand. Like, she's a literal saint. If you'd met her, you'd know what I'm talking about. She's perfect." Hilda waves her hand to demonstrate her point, and nearly whacks herself in the face with the handcuffs. "Loves animals, so she'd be a dog and cat person if her apartment allowed pets. Has the prettiest smile you've ever seen, if you can get it to come out. And a heart at least ten sizes too big for her."

"Mhm, mhm. Cute?"

"The freaking cutest, oh my gawds, don't even get me started. " 

Hilda pauses, the words coming out of her mouth finally catching up with her brain, and she groans, dropping her head down on the table with a meaty thud. "Shut up. You weren't supposed to know that. Shut up."

"I didn't say anything!" he says, even though she can totally hear the laugh in his voice. "Not like I need to, though." 

Hilda groans again, and this time, he doesn't bother hiding his laugh, the insensitive weenie.

"You know what, just let me go to prison; I can put up with jail time better than putting up with you."

"A delicate flower like you? In the slammer? Doubtful," says Holst with way more enjoyment then he should be having. "But.... hold on a second. Marianne... haven't I heard that name before?" His expression turns thoughtful before it lights up. "The Edmund girl? The one the police are looking for in regards to the Slitherer case?"

"Yeah." Hilda sits up as a possibility worms its way into her head. "Why? Have they found anything?"

"Just that she might as well have up and vanished into thin air. Literally, that's what it said in the case report. Stupidest report I've ever read in years." Holst lets out a derisive snort, his opinion on the GMPD plain as day. "Vanished into thin air. Like that'll ever fly in court."

The words send a sobering chill down Hilda's spine. Vanished. Disappeared. Gone without a- no, shut up, shut up. Don't think like that. They're wrong. Marianne's still out there. She has to be. She has to.

"Not vanished," Hilda says quietly, and Holst glances at her strangely. "Taken."

There's a long pause.

Holst leans forward.

"Hilda. What are you trying to say?"

How much to tell him? Should she even tell him at all? 

Hilda bites her lip. Screw it. There's no time to think it over, not now. It's all or nothing.

"Marianne is... special. Just trust me on this," she says as her brother's frown turns quizzical. She doesn't have the time to waste explaining the legend of the sunshine girl and all that jazz. Or to be committed to the psych ward. "She's in trouble and... and I have to find her. Before it's too-" 

Hilda stops. Swallows. 

Her brother is silent.

"I'm not giving up on her. Not for one second. I promised."

For a long second, her brother only stares at her. Not a single word or even a peep. Just stares at her, like he's trying to figure out if she's insane or telling the truth.

The seconds tick by.

A bead of sweat trickles down Hilda's neck. The silence stretches on, time she doesn't have.

And then, without warning, he leans back in his chair and smacks his forehead.

"Seiros, I must be losing my mind."

Before Hilda can ask him what _that's_ supposed to mean, he stands up and walks around the table over to where she's sitting.

"Lobby on the third floor from this one," he whispers lowly in her ear, and Hilda sits straight up in her chair, electricity suddenly coursing through her veins as he goes on.

"Right in front of the stairs, you can't miss it." He glances at his watch. "I can give you ten minutes distraction, tops. Then you're on your own."

"Have I told you that you're my favorite brother? Because you are my favorite brother." 

"Thanks. I'm my favorite too." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a smartphone and slips it into her pocket. "Your's is being processed as evidence right now, so I need that back when you're done. The only numbers I've actually memorized are yours, mom and dad's, and that Almyran takeout place down the street."

"Right. Sure. Whatever you want." No way is she looking this gift horse in the mouth. Might as well see how far she can push it. She raises her hands, which are, surprise, surprise, still handcuffed.

"Don't suppose you have the keys for these now, do you?"

His only response is to raise a single disbelieving eyebrow. 

Fine. Fair reaction. Totally unhelpful, though. Hilda scowls.

"Okay, okay. How about this. I saw on tv once where this magician got out of his cuffs by dislocating his thumb and then resetting it. Do you have any idea how to reset a dislocated thumb?" 

"On second thought, let me see what I can do," Holst says, looking both subtly impressed at her commitment and subtly nauseous at her commitment. He leans down, inspecting the cuffs. "

"You've got some shimmy room. Not a lot, but... Here, let me see if I can..."

He grabs a cuff, hooking as many fingers he can in the circle, and pulls. The metal lets out a protesting screech and budges maybe a centimeter. 

He grunts, a vein throbbing in his forehead, and pulls harder _._

The metal screeches again. Another centimeter. An inch. Right... _there!_

Hilda whips her hand out, just as her brother lets out a gasp, and lets go, just as the cuffs close with a sharp _snap!_

Holy hell, that actually worked. Hilda stares at her free hand. She might be in slight shock at the moment. That actually worked, holy _freaking_ hell.

"There... never say I don't do anything for you." Holst sucks in a breath, shaking out his hands. "Ow, I think I dislocated _my_ thumb. Why did I think this was a good idea- oof!"

The rest of his complaint is cut off as Hilda throws herself at him and wraps him in a bear hug a year overdue. A second later, she feels his arms close around her shoulder and holds her tight. 

"Thanks." Her words are muffled by layers of silk and designer suit, but she knows he can hear her just fine. "Ya big lunk."

And he just laughs and hugs her tighter.

"Right back at ya, shortstack."

\---

Hilda waits five minutes after her brother leaves before she makes her move. The longest five minutes of her life. It takes all her patience to not bust down the door and go tearing through the police station, but she holds back. Barely. She only has one shot, and she can _not_ afford to blow it. 

"Hey. Officer! Helllllloooo, is anyone there?" She injects just a hint of distress into her voice, added with the most obnoxious way she can hit the door with both hands. Slappity, slap, slap. "I don't like being ignored, HEEEEEEYY!! _"_

_"_ Oh my Goddess- what now?" 

She steps back, and a second later, the viewing slot slides back to reveal a surprisingly boyish-looking face scrunched in irritation. 

"Well? Spit it out." Wow, he even sounds like a kid. There's no way he's older than Hilda. Is it just her, or is everyone in the GMPD oddly baby-faced? "Make it quick, I'm supposed to be on break in five."

Five minutes, well hell. Time to put that middle school acting elective to use. Hilda thrusts out her bottom lip, blinks her eyes like the saddest baby doe in existence. Perfect.

"I need to use the lady's room."

Officer baby face regards her suspiciously. "Right now?"

_No, after I've soiled myself, duh_ , is what she nearly says, but bites her tongue just in time and instead, nods as meekly as she can.

"Please, officer? I don't want to make a scene. I just need to freshen up, feel human again, you know? Please, please, pretty pleeeeease?"

He gives her an appraising once over. Hilda holds her breath and discreetly pinches her arm to make her eyes water. 

"Well... alright. But no funny stuff, alright?" He moves back out of view, and Hilda fist pumps as the sweet sound of the door unlocking reach her ears. A second later, the door opens, and officer baby-face steps back, pocketing the keys. "You get five minutes. After that, I'm sending in Petra to get you, capiche?"

"Crystal." Hilda coos, latching onto his arm. Time to crank that simp dial up a notch. "Thank you so so so much, Officer..." she glances at the nametag. "Burgers. You're a sweetheart. Nothing like those other meanies who took me in! And, oh wow, so strong too! Do you work out?"

He actually perks up at that, which is hilarious because even at full height, he's barely an inch taller than her.

"Bergliez, actually. But yeah, you can tell? Linhardt says that I gotta do more than just eat mac 'n cheese to put on muscle mass, but that stuff works just fine for me!" He puffs his chest out, a mighty self-satisfied smile on his face for a glorified mall cop, when his eyes travel down from her shoulder, down to her hands. 

His smile turns confused.

"Hey, hold on a second. Where are your handcuf-"

Hilda grabs both sides of his head before he can get any further.

"Sorry, not sorry," she says.

And then headbutts him straight to the noggin.

Officer Burger goes out like a light, falling bonelessly to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Hilda staggers back, clutching her forehead. Wow, that hurt WAY more than it should've for her, what the freak. 

"Owwwww myyyyyyyyy gaaaawds! Never doing that again owwww..."

Once the spots disappear from her eyes, she rolls the unconscious officer into the interrogation room, nabbing the keys from his pocket and locking the door behind her. It clicks shut, she steps back and lets out a shaky sigh.

Alright. That wasn't so bad. First step in the escape plan a resounding success. Sorta. Kinda. Just as long as she doesn't have to headbutt the next couple of officers on patrol, she'll be outta here in no time.

"No slacking off now."

\---

The GMPD lobby is a hubbub of activity, a hive of barely controlled chaos. Officers and detectives are scattered all over the place, rushing from one fire to the next, as phones ring off the hooks and the faint smell of sweat and desperation float through the air. 

And absolutely no one pays attention to the vibrant pink criminal making her sweet little way to the exit. 

_I can't believe this is working._

Hilda forces herself to take another step. Casual. Not too fast, not too slow. Every time someone rushes past her, she tenses, even as nothing happens. Whatever distraction Holst pulled off, it's working a little _too_ well, jeez. What the hell did he do, steal all the coffee and donuts in the break room or something?

She rounds a corner, heart beating a tattoo in her chest. Just a few more feet and freedom lies just outside the automatic doors. Only a few more and...

"This is absurd! You can't keep my client detained when you don't have any proof that she committed any sort of crime!"

Holst's booming baritone nearly makes her trip, and she covers it just in time by turning and pretending to look at the police poster tacked to the bulletin board. A second later, somebody passes behind her.

"If that's the case, then she has nothing to fear when we collect her testimony later."

The familiar oily tone of Detective Vestra makes her skin crawl, and she only barely represses a shudder. Crap. _Crap._ Of all the people to run into right now, why him? As subtly as possible, Hilda glances over her shoulder. 

Holst and the detective are squared off against each other, right in front of the exit. Her brother has his arms crossed, scowling up a thunderstorm. Detective Vestra, on the other hand, looks almost bored with his arms behind his back while Officer Aegir hovers a little further away, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he fiddles nervously with a clear plastic bag in his hands.

"On whose authority do you have to conduct an interrogation?" 

"That's none of your concern."

"Alright, then why don't I make it my concern you slimy little-"

"Gentleman, please!" Officer Aegir inserts himself between the two, hands held up. "This conduct is unbecoming for men of our station. Why don't we all just take a step back and sort this out like civilized people, alright?"

After a tense second, Holst uncrosses his arms and gives a short nod.

Detective Vestra's mouth twitches, but he steps back as well.

"Excellent." Officer Aegir beams, clapping both of them on the back and completely missing the glares thrown his way. "Glad we could come to an understanding. Let me run this down to evidence, and then we can continue this discussion," he says, holding up the plastic bag.

Hilda nearly misses it at first. She's far away enough that at first glance, the evidence bag looks empty, but then Officer Aegir holds it up to the light, and she catches a familiar flash of blue, a small silver sparkle and...

She only just manages to turn her gasp into a fake coughing fit, but it hardly matters in all the noise and chaos. What really matters is the ring, the same ring she spent her blood, sweat and tears working on, _that same ring,_ sitting in the evidence bag just a few feet away from her. 

And getting farther away with each second.

Her hands are trembling, the electricity coursing through her veins making it hard to think. 

_Let it go. Just let it go. It's not worth it. It's just a ring._

But it's not.

It's _her_ ring.

"Excuse me, officer."

Officer Aegir comes to a stop, a helpful smile already making its way onto his face.

"Ah, yes, ma'am, how can I be of service?" he says automatically, before blinking. His brows contract. "Er, wait, haven't we met-"

Before he can even finish the rest of his sentence, Hilda pulls back her fist, and lets fly.

_Crack!_

Officer Aegir doesn't even have a chance to yelp. Just goes flying head over heels straight into the reception desk with a resounding _crash!_

Record scratch. Everything in the station comes to a screeching halt. For one entire second, there's not a single sound.

And then all hell breaks loose.

"Detain her at once!"

Detective Vestra is the first to react, reaching into his coat to grab his weapon, sallow face contorted into a vicious scowl. But before he can even move, Holst steps forward and decks him straight across the jaw.

This time, the reception desk turns into splinters as the detective joins Officer Aegir in a heap.

_Holy. CRAP._

"Don't just stand there! Get outta here, Hild!" 

Her brother's sharp voice jolts Hilda out of her shock. 

_Escape. Right. Run. Legs, move. But gotta thank Holst too. Maybe hug the crazy son of a gun. Not in that order. Gotta move. NOW._

She pauses only for a second to stoop down and nab the evidence bag, sidestepping out of the way when another officer makes a leaping dive at her. Holst body checks him out of the way, and as she dashes past him, she makes sure to cuff him on the shoulder.

"You're my favorite brother!!!" she calls back. He says something, but his voice is drowned out by the noise, and she doesn't waste another second and runs out of the doors.

The first thing that hits her is the heat, washing over her skin like fire, and it's such a jarring moment that she stumbles in surprise. What the hell, it was literally snowing yesterday. And now, not a cloud in sight. Just clear blue skies, the sun shimmering as the humidity prickles at her skin. Just another summer day. 

The sound of shouting behind Hilda forces her feet to start moving again. Quickly, she glances around. The parking lot is a wide-open space, nowhere to hide or duck into cover. Crap. If she can get to the street, she can lose them in the crowd, but-

A car horn blares out to her left, and Hilda stops herself just in time from turning into a pancake as mini-sedan slams on the brakes in front of her. An insult is on the tip of her tongue, but before she can get anything out, the window rolls down, and a familiar face pops into view.

"Hilda? Is that you?"

Mercedes head peeks out the window, astonished expression and wide eyes mirroring Hilda's own.

"It is you! Oh my goodness, I nearly ran you over! Are you alright? What are you doing here?" 

Hilda can only gape, her brain still in the process of playing catch up. 

"I...uhh... long story?" she answers truthfully, right as the station doors burst open, and the police begin pouring out. 

"There she is! Get her!"

Mercedes's attention swivels to the police, then back to Hilda. Her eyes get even wider before they suddenly narrow in resolve. 

She reaches over and unlocks the passenger door.

"Get in."

If there had been time to cry a little, maybe ask Mercedes to have her babies and relinquish all worldly possessions to her, Hilda would've done it. Instead, she dives headfirst into the seat and slams the car door behind her right as Mercedes steps on the gas.

"You are my favorite person in the world," Hilda clicks on her seat belt. "I will be your proofreader for life and whatever else you- OH MY GODS WHAT'RE YOU DOING STOP STOP STOP!"

Smooth as silk, Mercedes switches lanes, just narrowly missing a head-on collision with a massive semi that makes their sedan look like a cardboard box.

"If I still have my job by the end of today, I might take you up on that offer," Mercedes says with way too much cheer. She flicks on her turn signal, waving back apologetically as the semi honks indignantly at them. "My, when the police called saying my presence was needed down at the station, I certainly wasn't expecting this!" She lets out an airy giggle, and Hilda can only stare incredulously as she hangs on for dear life. "What a thrilling way to start the day!"

A siren begins blaring behind them. Mercedes glances at the rearview mirror briefly and makes a clucking noise with her tongue.

"One moment, please."

She pulls the handbrake, and Hilda's scream is forced back into her throat as the sedan makes a sharp 90 degree turn into a narrow alley barely big enough to drive through.

Behind them, there's a screech of rubber followed by a tremendous crash.

"Where did you learn how to drive?!" Hilda clutches the armrest, life flashing before her eyes. Oh boy. This is it, this is how she dies.

"Oh, I run deliveries occasionally for By when she has a rush order and can't do it herself."

Mid-sentence, Mercedes pulls a hard right, driving straight onto to the (mostly) empty sidewalk. SIDE. WALK.

"You pick up a thing or two," she goes on blithely as Hilda doesn't even bother trying to rein in her screams anymore. She pulls back onto the road with a thump that rattles the entire frame of the car and flicks on the windshield wiper to brush off the debris. "But that's enough about me. How have you been? And why are we evading the law right now?"

Hilda opens her mouth. Op, wait no, not a good idea unless she wants to lose what little there is in her stomach right now. "It's... complicated?" 

"I'll bet," says Mercedes without a single ounce of sarcasm. They hit another speed bump, and they're actually airborne for a few terrifying seconds before the car hits the ground again with another shuddering thump. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the sunshine girl by any chance, would it? Where is Marianne, by the by?"

Something catches in Hilda's throat.

"She's... she's not..." Her hand balls up into a fist. "You were right."

Mercedes takes her eyes off the road for one second to look back at her.

"What do you mean I was right- oh. Oh." 

The pity in her eyes is almost unbearable. 

"Hilda... I'm so so sorry. I- hold on."

She jerks the steering wheel to the right, cutting across the merging lane and straight onto the freeway. Several horns blare from behind, but she ignores them all, eyes focused on the road.

"So, where do we go from here?"

Good question and one that she totally didn't think about during her escape plan. And yet, somehow, the answer falls from Hilda's lips before she can even think twice.

"The Goddess Tower," Hilda says without an ounce of doubt. Even as she says it, she just knows that it's where she needs to be. It's where everything began, for her and Marianne and the one hundred percent sunshine girl. It just feels _right._ "You know that old abandoned highrise up for demolishment in the old quarter?"

Mercedes's eyes light up in recognition, and she lets out a breathy laugh. "Well, if there's a place for miracles, it would be there. But the roads into the city are flooded. The closest I can get you to is the outskirts."

"That's more than enough. I'll crawl to the top if I have to."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Mercedes says, exiting onto the local roads. The sound of sirens are a faint echo in the distance, but who knows how long that'll last. "Have you heard anything from her sister?"

"I- no. Crap." Lysithea. Of course. Guilt bubbles up in Hilda's chest, but she quickly quashes it down. There'll be a time for that as well as a buttload of apologies later. Right now, she needs to focus on what's ahead. At the very least, Lysithea'll be safe, away from all the chaos. Not like the GMPD can force a confession out of a minor, so long as Holst is around. 

But at the very least, she should let her know what's going on. Hilda takes out her brother's phone, pulling Lysithea's number from memory, and opens up the messaging app. It takes a few tries since Mercedes is driving like a bat out of Ailel, but she manages to type out her message.

_Going to the old district. Stay safe. I'll bring her back. Promise._

She hits the send button, and then promptly shrieks as Mercedes hits the brakes without warning and sends her head straight into the dashboard. 

"Gaah! Jeez, Mercie what the-" The words die on Hilda's lips when she lifts her head and sees the road ahead. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me!"

The road before them leading into the tunnel underpass is completely flooded, with not a single speck of visible asphalt. Deserted cars litter the path, the roofs just barely peeking out above the water like little abandoned islands.

"That's a problem." For once in her life, Mercedes actually sounds perturbed. "This is the only road that heads into the old quarter."

"Wha- are you for real?!" Hilda pounds the dashboard, frustration seeping into her fists. No, no, no, _come on!_ "I did NOT break out of jail today just to be roadblocked by some stupid puddle!" 

"Hold on." Mercedes measured voice cuts in. She points upwards to the train tracks running over the bridge. "Isn't that the Gronder line up there?"

Hilda stops and squints upwards. "I... I mean, I think so. Yeah. So what?"

"That line goes straight to the heart of Garreg Mach. And the trains aren't in service right now due to the flooding so..."

"So it's just a direct run into the city!!" Hilda sits straight up, mind whirling. The Goddess Tower is only a station away from where they are now. Just a handful of miles and lines of train track to get there.

Just one problem though...

"How the heck am I supposed to get up there?" Hilda sticks her head out the window, eyeing the gap from the ground to the top of the overpass. "There's no way I can jump that high to reach the tracks."

"No," Mercedes agrees slowly. "But maybe you could..." she says, turning to look Hilda in the eyes, "if you were on the roof of the car?"

It takes a second for Hilda to understand. 

One entire second.

"You're joking."

Mercedes's only answer is to rev the engine not once, not twice, but three times. 

Vroom, vroom. _Vroooooooom._

Hilda closes her eyes and puts her face into her palms. Takes a deep breath. 

And then she screams. 

For a good... nine, ten seconds. Eleven if she counts the incoherent swearing she tacks on near the end of her breath.

Once that's finally done, Hilda unclicks her seatbelt and kicks the door open without another word.

"Just wait for my signal before you jump," Mercedes calls out after her in a tone that's way too cheerful than the situation warrants as Hilda scrabbles onto the sedan's roof. She revs the engine again, the vibrations sending shivers down Hilda's spine. "I'd hate for you to turn into pancake if you missed your mark by just a second."

"Ya know what, I take back what I said, you can proofread your own papers." Hilda snipes back to cover the nerves. Gods, this has got to be the stupidest thing she's ever done. EVER. And that's not including her prison break. 

Mercedes knocks on the roof. "Ready?"

The laugh that escapes Hilda's throat borders somewhere between terrified and utterly TERRIFIED. 

"Abso-freaking-lutely not."

"That's the spirit," replies Mercedes, and then guns it.

The car lurches beneath Hilda's feet, and she only just manages to catch her balance in time. Everything is a blur with the wind whipping at her eyes. The overpass is coming up way too fast, oh gods. This is how it ends. Not with a bang, but with a _splat!_

"NOW!"

Mercedes slams onto the brakes. Instinct kicks in and Hilda jumps, letting the momentum slingshot her forward and up, up, up, straight for the tracks.

_Not gonna make it, not gonna make it, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAHHHHHHHH-!!_

She hits the guard rail with her stomach, and all the air is punched out of her as she reels backward, gasping for breath. 

_No, other way, fall the OTHER WAY._

Her hand lashes out, and through some small miracle, her fingers curl around the railing, just in the nick of time.

_"GAH!!"_

Hilda lets the rest of her weight pull her up and over the railing, landing in a graceless heap on top of the tracks, gasping for breath like a fish out of water.

Made it. She made it. Every breath hurts, the sun is shining directly into her eyes, and she's pretty sure her stomach's collapsed in on itself, but holy hell, she _actually_ made it. 

Never _ever_ again.

"Hilda! Hilda, are you alive? Hilda!!"

Oh, right. Mercedes. The enabler. 

With a groan, Hilda hauls herself onto her feet, leaning heavily on the guard rail. Once her head can peek over the ledge, she raises her arms and throws a thumbs up. 

"Still kickin'!"

The strawberry blonde is kneedeep in water, the sedan itself completely submerged, but she still lets out a loud cheer as soon as she sees Hilda. 

"Then what are you waiting for? Shoo!" Mercedes waves her off, widest grin Hilda's ever seen on her face and looking absolutely ridiculous. "You've got a promise to keep, after all!"

A surge of gratitude pulses in Hilda's chest. Good grief. All the people in her life are certifiably insane. And she'd take a bullet for each and every one of the crazy idiots- no questions asked

Hilda hops off the ledge, landing heavily onto the tracks. Ahead, the old Goddess Tower looms against the blue sky, as if to taunt her with the distance. 

Ha! Joke's on that stupid crumbling piece of rubble. There's _nothing_ she can't do if she puts in the work to make it happen. Absolutely. Nothing.

Hilda glares at the tracks ahead of her, pulling out the elastic in her twintails.

"I'm coming, Marianne," she promises, fixing her hair into a single ponytail. She straightens up, breathing in deep, and looks up into the cloudless blue sky.

"Just a little longer. I swear.

And with that promise, Hilda lowers her head and runs headlong into the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last two chapters will be posted tomorrow and the day after!


	7. Chapter 7

The stairs go on forever.

Hilda can't remember there being these many stairs the last time she was at the Goddess Tower. It feels like a lifetime ago she was climbing these same stairs to get to the rooftop to watch the sunshine girl work her magic. The only difference this time is she's alone.

Every breath hurts. Every step hurts. Every beat of her heart hurts, and it feels like if she stops for even a second, she'll crumble into dust. So she keeps moving and ignores the dull, empty ache in her chest—one foot after the next, one more set of stairs, one step closer to Marianne.

Time feels like it slows to a crawl. How long has she been climbing these stairs? Minutes? Hours? Days? It feels like she's been going up forever now, past the sky and into space.

"I'm sorry, Marianne," Hilda gasps into the silence, one step after the other. "I'm sorry for being such a lazy good-for-nothing. Sorry for being the worst friend in the world. Sorry for breaking our promise when I said I'd always be there for you."

The sweat stings at her eyes, and she blinks away the tears. When her vision clears, the door to the rooftop is in front of her, and her heart leaps into her throat.

"I'm coming, Mari. Just hold on."

She stumbles to the door, fumbling for the knob like an idiot because of sweat-slicked palms, and pushes it open.

The light from the sun blinds her, and she has to wait for her eyes to adjust for a few precious seconds before she can scan the rooftop. It's bare, save for the cracked tiles and rubble, bits and pieces of the guard railing having rusted over and crumbled over time- nothing but ruin. 

For an instant, Hilda feels her hope freeze into ice, until she sees it.

There, nestled in the far right corner. A bright red Tori gate, strangely untouched by the weather or time, looms protectively over a small shrine to the Goddess. A perfect carbon copy of the miniature shrine back at the apartment, the one Marianne prays to all the time.

It looks so out of place, the one perfect piece of civilization surrounded by rubble and debris. And yet, Hilda can't even feel surprised, not when it feels like it's been waiting this entire time for her to finally arrive.

But what is surprising is the person already standing before the shrine, head bowed, and hands clasped together in prayer.

Seteth open's his eyes and turns around to regard her, expression carved in stone.

"Hello again, Ms. Goneril."

For a second, Hilda's not sure if she's hallucinating her former boss due to sheer exhaustion or if fate is playing one last cruel joke on her.

"You can't be serious." Hilda spits out when she finally finds her tongue. To Seteth's credit, his only reaction to her tone is a subtle tightening of his lips. "What the hell are you doing here. If it's to offer me my job back, then lemme save you some time. _Hell no_."

"I'm glad you can see the humor in your situation at the very least," he remarks dryly, like its just any other day in the office, like the bridge between them never burned, and Hilda's blood boils. "You can only imagine my amusement then when I received a rather interesting alert from the GMPD on my phone.

Seteth reaches into his pocket and pulls out an ancient brick of a flip phone and begins to read. "The suspect was last seen heading for the abandoned apartment complexes in the Old District. Suspect is considered dangerous, with a recent history of assault. Do not approach." 

He stops reading and looks up with a cold scowl. "This is not what I meant when I told you to go home, Ms. Goneril."

Hilda snorts. Like she'd listen to that schtick. He lost the right to tell her what to do after he stopped paying her paycheck. "Oh, you know me. Can't help but stick my nose in places where it's not welcome, but what else is new?"

As subtly as she can, she edges to the side, talking all the while. Seteth is the one thing standing between her and the shrine, and despite everything, she doesn't want to have to _make_ him move away. Not just because she's utterly wiped right now and can barely see straight, but also because it feels... _wrong._ Like if she went up to a Saint and punched them in the mouth.

"What about you, huh? Place like this doesn't really feel like your kinda jam. Needs more heavy disdain and moral judgment, you know what I mean?"

Seteth growls, _actually_ growls, and Hilda stops dead in her tracks.

"Is this all some sort of farce to you? Some pretense of teenage rebellion or whatever you call it?"

He crosses the distance between them in two strides, suddenly up in Hilda's face, looming over her.

"I always thought you were headstrong when you wanted to be. But this? This is the absolute pinnacle of your recklessness. And you seem ready to bring everyone down with you in this catastrophe. This is _not_ what Ms.Edmund would have want-"

"Shut." Hilda intterupts. "Up."

The silence that follows is the only time that Hilda's ever seen Seteth completely, utterly speechless.

"Don't you _dare_ say it like she's already gone." Electricity courses through her veins, pulsing with cold fury. "Not while I'm still here."

Distantly, she realizes her hands are shaking. Her entire body is shaking, but there's not an ounce of fear in her.

"For once in my crappy life, I'm trying to do the right thing instead of just flaking out, and all I'm getting is crap from everyone who says I _can't._ That I should just give up and grow up. Screw that. I'm done listening to them, and more importantly, I am so, so done listening to _you._ What do you know? You can't even keep your own family together!"

_Smack!_

Hilda reels back, stars erupting in her vision, clutching at her cheek. Seteth, stares back at her, his hand still outstretched. The surprised look on his face doesn't last long, slowly giving away to horror.

"I- oh Goddess..."

The sound of pounding footsteps running up the stairs cuts through the stunned silence. A second later, the door swings open with a _bang!_

"Freeze! GMPD!"

She recognizes Officer Aegir's voice before she can actually see him, the stars slowly dissipating in her vision. When she blinks again, the dark blur standing next to him comes into focus, and Detective Vestra's skeletal visage sneers back at her.

And that's when she notices the pair of guns trained directly on her. 

"What in Seiros's name- have you men lost your mind's?!" Seteth puts himself directly in front of her, the indignation in his voice as sharp as a knife. "Put down your weapons at once!"

The detective scoffs dangerously. "In the presence of a Slitherer? I think not."

"A Slitherer, how on earth- she's a minor for goodness sake!"

This is it. Her moment, when all the attention is off her. There won't be any second chances. It has to be now now now _now._

Without another thought, Hilda whips around and dashes straight for the shrine.

**_BANG!_ **

Hilda stops dead in her tracks.

Slowly, her ponytail slides off her shoulder and falls down onto the floor.

Detective Vestra refocuses the gun on her, the barrel still smoking.

"The next shot will be your ears, I promise you." He gestures with the pistol. "Aegir. Secure her."

The officer steps forward, unhooking the cuffs off his belt. He at least has the decency to look apologetic as he approaches.

"I'm sorry. This isn't what any of us wanted, but if you'd just come quietly then we can-"

The sharp _click_ of the cuff locking around Hilda's wrist is what snaps her out of her shock. No. No, not again. He's too close to lash out with a fist or a kick, so instead, she surges forward and headbutts him square on the nose.

"GAH!"

She shoves him to the side, into some rubble. He goes tumbling, but before she can even take a step, the detective appears out of nowhere. Without a word, he slams a fist into her stomach.

_"Hurk!!"_

Hilda doubles over, gasping, falling to her knees. One moment she's struggling for breath, the next, her face is being shoved into the concrete, and her arm forced behind her back.

"Let me go!!" Hilda struggles, but the detective just pushes harder on her back. Seteth is bellowing. Officer Aegir is holding his nose, coming closer. "Let me go or I'll- I'll-!"

The detective lifts her head and then slams it into the concrete. Hilda chokes, stars erupting in her vision.

"Goddess, do you ever stop talking? Aegir, get over here, now!"

"Please." Her voice cracks on raw desperation, doing nothing to stop the stinging in her eyes. "I just need to see her again, one last time. Don't you understand? **_I promised!!_ **"

The tears blur her vision, so she doesn't see Seteth's face turn pale white and collapse on itself, or how his eyes widen and how he takes an unsteady step backward. 

Detective Vestra just presses down harder on her back, choking out the rest of her words. 

"Well, it looks like that'll just be one promise you'll have to break."

Hilda tries to respond, but her voice isn't working. Her vision is turning white, and all she hears is the sound of static in her head.

"Let her go, you son of a **_bitch!_** "

The pressure on her back is suddenly gone, and the noise rushes back into the world. Hilda blinks the stars out of her eyes and lifts her head, just in time to see Seteth tackle the detective to the ground.

"What are you- GAH!" the detective's words are cut off as Seteth lands a solid haymaker to his jaw.

"T-this is Officer Aegir! We need backup, the situation has gotten out of controAAAGH!"

"Go, Hilda!" Seteth bellows, and there's some of that same raw emotion in his voice that Hilda can feel in her own. "Now!"

He doesn't need to tell her twice. Hilda stumbles to her feet, running straight for the shrine.

More shouting. The gun goes off behind her, but she doesn't stop. As soon as she passes through the red Tori gate, she shuts her eyes, clasps her hands together and prays with every fiber of her being.

_Please, Goddess. I beg of you. Let me see her again. Please._

Hilda takes a step forward...

And feels the first drops of rain fall against her skin.

Her eyes fly open, but the only image that greets her is inky darkness that goes on forever. The sounds of summer have disappeared, replaced entirely by the pelting droplets of rain hitting the ground. Every drop that hits her skin is freezing, sapping any shred of warmth.

Zaharas. The land where the Goddess seals the fate of every maiden of the sun. Empty, except for the rain that never stops falling.

And somewhere in the darkness, is Marianne. 

Cold. 

Scared.

Alone.

"Marianne!" Hilda takes a step... forward? Backward? It's impossible to tell. She can't see a single thing in the darkness, not even the hand she waves right in her face. The raindrops stinging her bare skin and the sound of her own voice are the only indication that she even exists in the darkness. 

"Marianne! I'm here!! Say something, please!!"

Hilda pauses. Nothing, just the rain falling and- wait. She strains her ears, concentrating with all her being. 

There, nearly drowned out by the rain, she can hear the faint sounds of someone sobbing.

"Marianne!!"

Hilda runs, trying to follow the sound of the crying, arms stretched out in front of her as if she can shove the darkness out of the way. But every step she takes, it feels as though the darkness pushes her back.

The sound of sobs grows fainter, slowly fading into the rain.

Panic takes ahold of her steps, forcing her feet to trip over themselves, and she hits the ground with a pained grunt.

"Dammit!"

She tries to get up, but the rain pounds relentlessly on her back, forcing her down into the ground.

"Get up." Her legs refuse to move, and she slams a fist into the ground. _"Get up!!"_

Something happens. Light suddenly bursts forth from Hilda's pocket, nearly blinding her for a second, and she gasps, quickly covering her eyes.

"Sothis, what the hell?" Hilda reaches into her pocket. Her fingers brush against something small and circular and very warm and- oh!

She pulls out the ring. It's glowing, a mini beacon of light sitting in the palm of her hand that not even the rain can snuff out.

A single spark of hope.

The sound of sobbing suddenly comes to a stop.

"Who's... -ere? ...one? Any...?

A familiar whisper comes from the ring, barely audible in the darkness, and Hilda feels her heart leap into her throat.

"Mari?" her hands are shaking, barely keeping the ring in her hands. She brings it closer to her mouth. "Mari, is that you?" 

Silence.

And then...

"...Hilda?"

Hope rushes into Hilda with enough force that it's almost dizzying.

"Yes! It's me! It's me." Hilda laughs, breathless, wiping at her eyes. "I'm here! Where are you? Can you see anything?"

"N...no... I ca... wait..." Marianne's voice sounds so far away. Hilda holds her breath. "Light! ...see light!"

Light... The light from the ring! If she can see it, then she has to be close by. 

"That's me! How far away does it look?" Hilda staggers to her feet, slipping the ring onto her finger, and starts running. "Hang on just a little more, Mari. We're getting out of here together, I swear."

The rain is falling so hard that Hilda nearly misses the next words from the ring.

"I... I can't..."

"Can't what?" Silence. Hilda presses further. "Mari, you can't what? Please, say something."

_"I can't leave!!!"_

The words explode out of the ring and out into the darkness, causing Hilda to stumble to a stop.

"I can't," she repeats. There are tears in her voice, twisting Hilda's heart into a painful knot. "If I do, the rain will never stop. The city will drown and you'll never... y-you'll n-never..." 

Even through the ring, Hilda can hear her voice crack with emotion. 

"Y-you'll never see the s-sun again. Never feel it's warmth against your skin or h-how blue the sky can be or- or how beautiful the fireworks are in the summer. It'll all... a-all just be a memory."

There aren't any words after that, only the sound of sobs that are swallowed up by the rain and darkness. 

Hilda opens her mouth.

"So what."

Silence

"Wha-what... are you..." Marianne's voice comes out from the shocked silence. "H-Hilda, you can't mean..."

"So what if the rain never stops? I don't care." The words fall out of Hilda's lips like a waterfall, unrelenting momentum. "So what I never see the sun again or how blue the sky is? So what if Garreg Mach sinks into the ocean? I. Don't. Care."

"Hilda... _Hilda, please."_

" _I don't care!!_ "

The tears in Hilda's eyes blur her vision, making the light from the ring almost painful to look at, but she doesn't turn her head away. Every single fiber of her being is focused on the faint glow in her hands and the words that come next.

"I want to hold your hand. I want to see your smile again. I want to make you happy. I want us to be _happy_. Screw what the world or the Goddess wants. I just- I-I just..."

Her voice gives out on the last word, the lump in her throat, making it impossible to say anything, so instead, she closes her eyes and brings the ring to as close as she can to her heart.

"I just want you to be here."

This time, the silence stretches on, broken only by the rain.

"It's selfish. I know. But a world where you have to disappear just so that everyone else can be happy, isn't a world I could ever be happy in, blue sky or not. So if any part of you feels the same way I do, even just a fraction..."

Slowly, Hilda raises her hand, extending the tiny light into the yawning darkness.

"Then take my hand."

This is her choice. She's made up her mind. And if the rest of the world has a problem with it, then they can deal.

The silence goes on and on. 

No answer.

Hilda's heart trembles, and the light from the ring flickers.

And then she feels warmth bloom in her hand as fingers interlace with hers, slotting in perfectly as if they always belonged together.

The darkness peels back like a curtain. Marianne stands in front of her, hand outstretched, eyes red with tears, face pale as snow. 

"I love you," she says through the tears, and the darkness shatters.

The ground beneath them breaks away like broken glass. Hilda doesn't even have time to scream before they're falling.

"Marianne!"

Wind rushes past them, swallowing up her words as they fall from the blue, cloudless sky to the earth below. The light from the ring is blinding, a miniature star sitting on her fingertips. Even then, she doesn't let go of the hand in hers for even a second.

"Don't let go!"

"I won't!" Marianne promises, her words falling into the rushing wind. "I won't! Not ever again!"

The light in their hands' flares like the sun, and it's the last thing Hilda sees as the sky turns white.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you who stuck around on this wild idea of mine you da real mvps ToT

Most of the answers in Hilda's inbox are spam and super unhelpful. Then again, when has asking random strangers on the internet for advice ever worked out? She's pretty much doing this to herself at this point. Figures.

_College freshman? Yeah good luck trying to find someone to hire you in this economy lolololol_

_Graduate first kiddo_

_Uber always hiring. Just need a brain stem and a speed boat ;p_

Yeaaaaaaaah, no. The last option has its advantages, but she'd have to buy a boat first. And get a license. And a slew of other things that are just waaaaay too much effort to go and look up right now. Which is kinda problem, now that she thinks about it. Boats and ferries have turned into the go-to form of transportation in Garrech Mach, now that more than half the city is submerged underwater. Three years of nonstop rain will do that to a city.

Welp, not like she can afford a license at the moment anyway on her shoestring budget. The only cash she's got is what Holst snuck into her purse before she stormed out of her parent's home. Not like she was going to stay a second longer under _that_ roof. And even if the Officer's Academy is just another small no-name college in Garreg Mach, the curriculum's fairly easy, tuitions dirt cheap, and better yet, it's way, waaaaay outside the Goneril sphere of influence. 

With a sigh, she deletes all the replies, including the last one, and drops her phone onto the coffee table, and stretches out her arms. What's a girl gotta do to make a living around here?

"Are you sure you still don't wanna re-hire me, boss?"

From his upgraded work desk, Seteth lets out a dry snort, not even bothering to look up from his laptop. 

"Quite sure, Ms. Goneril. And do refrain from referring to me as such. You aren't on my payroll anymore, after all."

"But I could be, boss." Hilda wheedles, draping herself out on the office couch. Even now, she has to marvel at how much more space there is in Seteth's current office compared to the cramped little basement apartment that they used to work-slash-live in. Case in point, the freakin' lounge couch that she can actually stretch her noodly arms out on. Absolute luxury.

Amazing what three years, a life-changing altercation with the authorities and custody of a daughter can do for productivity, huh?

"I mean, c'mon, remember the good ol' days?" She turns over, resting her chin on her arms and putting on her best starry-eyed look. Not like the googly eyes worked back then on Seteth, but hey, they're always worth a shot. "Me and Mercedes, going out for scoops, then coming back to the office to burn that midnight oil and make those deadlines, huh? Why not bring back the A-team again, for ol' time's sake?"

"Ah, yes, how remiss of me to forget." Seteth pauses briefly to adjust his glasses and give her the _look._ "Those halcyon days where I had to wait until the very last second for edits and re-writes since _some_ of us could only be properly motivated to work at the _very last second_." He lets out a wistful sounding sigh. "How I do miss those simpler times."

"You can just say no, you know, I'm a big enough girl to take it," Hilda grumbles, dropping the look. Three years later and somehow, he's gotten even snarkier while still sounding like a dictionary twenty years out of date. "Besides, you know I work best the closer I get to deadlines!"

The short laugh he lets out nearly startles her off the couch. "True enough," he concedes with a small smile. "I will admit, once you settled into your own pace, your pieces were some of the most direct and incisive insights I've ever had the pleasure of reading."

Hilda perks up, lifting up from the couch. There's her opening! "I know, crazy, right!" She laughs. "Ahahahaha, hire me."

"No."

Annnnnnd there goes her opening. 

"But whyyyyyyyyyyy?" Hilda flops back down on the couch, puffing out her cheeks. "This is discrimination!" She lifts her head up and calls across the room. "Mercedes, tell him that this is discrimination!"

"Oh, I wouldn't put it like that." 

From the break room, Mercedes breezes into the office, tea tray and biscuits in hand, and sets it down on the coffee table. She takes a seat next to Hilda, cheerfully helping herself to a cookie. Even now, it still throws Hilda for a loop to see Mercedes's luscious flowing locks replaced by a sensible, no-frills bob. She'd have a heart attack if anyone did that to her own hair. 

But... then again, it does suit Mercedes, in a gentle, kinda way too. Must be a married wife sorta thing. Has to be.

"Don't take any of Seteth's words to heart. He's just teasing."

"Teasing me for what?" Hilda grabs a pastry from the tray and stuffs it in her mouth. And then has to stop herself from making an obscene noise. Honestly, Mercedes should just quit her job reporting for the agency and work full time with her wife making sweets and stuff. World peace can definitely be achieved on their scones alone. "Can't a girl come back to her old digs without getting the third degree?"

This time, it's Mercedes gives Hilda her version of the _look._ Which is a lot less sarcastic than Seteth's, but it's also kinda worse 'cuz it's just this patient smile that just screams that she _knows._

"Oh, Hilda, there's no need to play coy. You're with friends!"

"Uhhh, sure. Doesn't answer my question, though."

She and Seteth share a look from across the room. Like Hilda's not even there, right in front of them. Rude.

"Mhm." Mercedes lifts the teacup to her mouth, takes the most genteel sip. "I'm just curious, after your probation period was over, was coming to the office the first thing you did when you arrived back in Garreg Mach?"

Answering a question with a question. Classic Mercedes tactic to wring out confessions. But just what kind of confession? The warning bells aren't ringing in Hilda's head just yet, but they're getting ready to. 

"I mean, I had to head to the apartment first, make sure all my stuff arrived. And then the leasing office to make sure the water and electricity were set up," Hilda ventures cautiously. "But other than that, yeeeeeeeees?"

"Hmmm..." Mercedes hums into her teacup and okay, yep, now those warning bells are going off like sirens. "That's strange. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's a delight seeing you again after all these years. But aren't there some other people you should've visited first? Maybe a certain, _special_ someone who you've been just _dying_ to see?

Mercedes tilts her head, a smile worth a thousand words lighting up her face. "Does that bring anyone to mind?"

Well... crap. Crappity, crap, crap, _crap._

Hilda leans back, far away as she can from her old co-worker. "I take it back. I do know what you're talking about. I just don't _like_ what you're talking about."

Mercedes opens her mouth again, probably to say something mom-like and intimidating, all at the same time, but before she can, Seteth speaks up.

"She asks about you all the time, you know."

It's like a jolt of electricity sparking in her veins. "She does?" Hilda asks before she can stop herself, only to mentally kick herself when Mercedes and Seteth exchange matching smirks. "I mean, I don't know who- oh shut up." 

Hilda grabs another pastry, and tears viciously into it with her hands. "Why does she ask you of all people?" she grumbles. She's not jealous. She's _not._

"Ms. Lysithea tutors Flayn over the weekends, and I make it a point to invite both sisters over for dinner every Tuesday and Thursday. Heaven knows they could use a decent meal that isn't sweets or a convenience store bento."

He takes out his phone (an honest goddess smartphone now, well whaddya know, maybe you really can teach an old dog new tricks) and switches to the photos app. A smile lights up his usually stern features. "Ah, here we are. This was just last week. We made red bean dumplings in celebration of the spring festival."

It's a selfie taken at an angle that only dad's with zero selfie experience can take. Half of Seteth's face is out of frame, and what is in the frame only shows a partial smile that's more than a little awkward. At least Flayn and Lysithea seem to be enjoying themselves, with matching grins and peace signs. Flayn looks pretty much the same- bright, peppy smile and a smear of flour running across her cheek, but Goddess, when did Lysiteha get so _big_? And tall? And was her hair always that long? Little gremlin no more, that's for sure.

But what draws Hilda's attention is the person standing a little further behind, in the middle of turning around to face the camera. The face is blurred, but the familiar head of blue is unmistakable and sends a violent jolt through Hilda's heart. 

Gosh, three years later, and it's like nothing's changed.

She hands the phone back to Seteth, feeling... well, she's not quite sure what she's feeling at the moment. Sad? Nervous? Relieved? It's a mixed bag of emotions.

"Well, that's... cool. Yeah." Hilda tears off some more of the pastry, ripping it into even smaller pieces that fall out of her hands and onto the table. "Glad to see them. Doing well. Yeah."

Mercedes puts a hand on her shoulder. Her first instinct is to shrug it off, but then Mercedes begins rubbing these soothing little circles and okay, fine, maybe it's not so bad after all. Hilda lets out a sigh, letting her shoulders fall.

"Is there any particular reason why you haven't reached out to her yet?" Mercedes asks quietly.

Good question.

Hilda shrugs. "Well, you know. She doesn't have a cell phone, and even if she did, I don't have her number or line ID. And it's not like I can just drop in on her out of the blue when she's probably busy with work and school and looking after her sister and..."

Seteth suddenly stands up, startling Hilda out of her excuse train. With all the dignity of a king descending from his gilded throne to greet the plebs, he comes out from behind his desk and sits down on the coffee table, directly in front of Hilda.

"Ms. Goneril," he begins, removing his glasses. "Hilda. Cowardice does not become you. Now hold on," he holds up his hand as she immediately starts to protest. "For the short time that you were under my employment and observation, I came to realize a few absolute truths about you. Those truths mainly being that you were one of the most unmotivated, lackadaisical, work adverse individuals I ever had the misfortune of knowing and offering a job to, just in this life alone."

"Okay, so never asking _you_ for a letter of recommendation, like ever."

"But even more than that..." 

He leans forward, clasping a hand on her shoulder. 

"I came to realize that you are also one of the bravest souls I have ever had the fortune of encountering in this life as well."

He says it in a way that's both gentle, yet firm, full of underlying pride and entirely out of left field and oh. Oh crap. Now's not the time to get emotional, oh jeez, pull it together, girl.

Seteth continues on, and Hilda tries her best not to come off as a train wreck waiting to happen. "One of the bravest, if not the bravest. I would know. After all, I've been witness to that same courage firsthand."

"That's easy for you to say." Hilda shoots back. It sounds whiny, even to her own ears. "It's not like you were the one forced to go back home for three years. Or never reach out to contact her. Or wonder if she even feels the same after these three years or even..!"

"You're right," he cuts her off, and Hilda stops. "I don't know. I can only assume. And maybe offer you this one piece of advice to make your decision a bit easier."

Well, this ought to be good. He's got years of life experience on her after all. With a reluctant nod, Hilda lifts her head.

"What is it? Lay it on me."

"To... Hmm." He pauses, visibly racking his brain. "What is it again that today's youths are saying? Ah, right."

Seteth squeezes her shoulder once reassuringly and smiles down at her, proud father and all.

"Stop being a pussy and call her."

Hilda chokes on her spit. Mercedes has to reach over and pound her back to get her to start breathing again.

" _That's your great advice?!_ " she coughs out once her brain resumes functioning. Okay, well, THAT sure as hell wasn't what she was expecting. Gods, she kinda wishes she'd been recording when he said that. And she also kinda wishes for some brain bleach so that she can scrub that memory from her brain forever, _BLEEEEGH_.

"I'm only saying what you already know you need to do." Seteth crosses his arms, and he actually looks a little smug. Unbelievable. "Nothing else needed to be said."

"Ugh. Fine. FINE!" 

But maybe... maybe he's got a point too. Hilda Valentine Goneril is a lot of things- lazy as hell, cute as a box of puppies, arts and crafter extraordinaire, oh so delicate, so on and so on.

Oh, and most importantly, not a _damn coward_.

Huh. Maybe it was legit advice, after all. Who da thunk?

"But just so we're clear, I'm not doing this because you told me to but so that I never have to hear another sentence like that come out of your mouth ever again." 

Hilda gets up, slipping on her parka, and making her way over to the door. If she leaves now, she can catch the ferry back to her apartment and nab her things before the lunch rush hits. She's got places to be, people to see, and things that need to be said before the day's done. So much to do, so little time.

"Seriously, it was like hearing Saint Seiros saying a bad word during Sunday service. Wrong on so many levels, like, spiritually and physically."

"I personally thought my execution was quite smooth actually," Seteth says, having the absolute stones to look disappointed.

Somehow, the way Mercedes pats him on the back is only a little condescending. "Sure, sure."

"Like finding out that there are actual rat people with a rat society living in the Garreg Mach sewers. That crazy."

"You know where the exit is, Ms. Goneril." He's already sitting down at his desk, trusty ol' dad bifocals back on his face, completely ignoring the stifled chuckles coming from Mercedes. "Have a good day."

"Like if Saint Cethleann got her ears pierced and didn't tell Saint Cichol about it."

"Good day- I'm sorry, _she did_ ** _what_ **?"

"Just kidding, I'll be in the office nine o'clock tomorrow, give or take a few hours, byeeeeee!" 

Hilda kicks the door open, rushing out into the rain and grinning to herself as Seteth splutters indignantly, and Mercedes's chuckles turn into full-blown laughter that can be heard from across the world.

Sure, a lot can change in three years.

And yet, some things just stay the same.

\---

This time, getting to the rooftop is a lot easier, considering she's not running on fumes at the moment, and the police aren't on her tail for a crime that she didn't commit. Though she wouldn't put it past them to be keeping tabs on her. That detective guy nearly blew a vein in court when the judge made her sentence just a three-year probation, which basically rounded up to glorified house arrest. He'd definitely be the kinda guy to hold a grudge.

Hilda forces the rusted door open with her foot, popping open her umbrella as she walks out onto the roof. The Goddess Tower might still be standing, but time and unending rain have definitely taken their toll. Part of the roof is sagging at an angle, the guard rails are completely rusted through and the view, well... the nicest way to put _that_ is the neighborhood only sorta looks like multiple Titanic's sinking into the ocean _._

Only sorta.

And yet, despite the rains and the passing of time, despite it all, the small shrine dedicated to the Goddess sitting in the far corner of the roof remains entirely the same. 

Hilda takes her time walking over to the shrine, taking it all in again. Bright red tori gate, the color unfaded, the small Goddess figurine in the middle, an unlit brazier lying at her feet... and a shiny red apple in the offering dish.

Huh. That's new. Looks pretty recent as well—wonder who left that.

Hilda stares silently at the faceless statue of the Goddess, slowly twirling her umbrella in her hand. It feels... weird being back here again, the place where it all started. Hard to believe that just three years ago, she was running away from home to find a dream that she could believe in, a place where she could belong. Hard to believe that she actually found both, a dream to believe in and a place where she could belong.

And now...

"Jeeeeeez, what am I even doing here?" Hilda mutters, looking up into the cloudy sky for an answer. Or a sign from the Goddess. She's not picky, she'll take either one. 

Nothing. Not even a peep. Shocker.

Well, as long as she's here, she might as well say hi.

"Hey, Goddess, it's me, Hilda." 

Okay, well, that only sounded a _little_ stupid, good job. Then again, not like there's anyone else up here to judge her. Maybe if she tries closing her eyes?

...Much better. Can't feel stupid if you can't see yourself being stupid. 

For added reassurance, Hilda reaches into her shirt and pulls out her necklace. Dangling at the end of the chain is a small silver band with a blue rhinestone set in the middle.

Hilda lets the ring sit in her palm for a second, letting the familiar weight ground her back to earth.

"So I know, I might've not been your best follower. Or even second or third or fourth-best but...um…" Hilda stops. No, wait, back it up. "But I still went to mass with mom and dad and Holst every other year. And that one time during Yuletide. And… yeah. Yeah, that's it. Just those times."

Oh, swell. She's definitely getting into heaven after that ringing endorsement. Whatever, screw it—time to take off the kiddie gloves.

"You know, for a supposed great, all-encompassing divine entity, I always thought you kinda sucked."

Hilda pauses, waiting for the divine judgemental thunderbolt to strike her down. It's happened before. 

...Nope. Nothing. Figures.

"I was really angry at you for a while. What kinda benevolent Goddess does the whole human sacrifice thing and still expects people to love and worship her afterward? That's some creepy, cultist stuff right there."

It's so quiet there on the rooftop, far removed from the city and the rest of the world. Calm. Peaceful. Even the sound of the rain falling on her umbrella is gentle, like a mother softly shushing her child after a bad dream. 

"But then, I cooled down a bit and thought, maybe…" 

Hilda stops, squeezing the ring. She lets out a sigh.

"Maybe that's not what you wanted. Not really. Maybe you didn't have a choice either. Maybe… you wanted things to turn out differently for us. Maybe. I don't know."

The Goddess listens in silence. Hilda waits another second, gathering her thoughts before she speaks again.

"I'm not sorry." 

Her secret is swallowed up by the sound of the rain. Who knows if the Goddess actually heard it?

"Well, that's not true," Hilda admits after the silence. "I am a little sorry for all the people who had to move out because of the rain and find new digs to live in. But… If I had to make the same choice again, I'd… I'd..."

The words are hard to say, even after all this time. Hilda takes a breath. The ring feels so heavy in her hands. 

"I'd choose her every time."

There's no earth-shattering movement that comes with her confession, no divine lightning bolt from above. Just the ever-present sound of rain falling from the sky.

"So I guess what I'm trying to say is... thanks," Hilda says, closing her hand around the ring. She brings it over her chest, settling it against the beat of her heart. "Thanks for letting us make that choice. And thanks… for believing in our choice too."

Her thanks are met with complete silence from the Goddess. Well, that was expected. Oh well. Some acknowledgment would've been nice, though. Or at least, some sort of sign instead of the yawning silence. Like a little flash of lightning or maybe some weird bangs or- wait.

_Wait._

_Stop._

Hilda strains her ears.

Quiet.

Absolute silence.

No sound of the falling rain.

Hilda opens her eyes.

The first thing she sees is the blue, blue sky, peeking just barely out from behind the clouds that are slowly drifting away as the sun reveals itself.

And the second thing she sees, is Marianne's shocked expression staring straight back at her.

Everything stops. 

Hilda stares, frozen in place. This is a dream. A dream. There's no way Marianne's right here, right now.

And then Marianne opens her mouth.

"Hilda?"

Her voice wavers, bordering on disbelief and hope, the same desperate longing in her voice that Hilda hears in her dreams.

But this time, it's not a dream.

"Hey, Mari."

Marianne takes a shaky step forward. Another. And then she's running across the rain-slicked roof and stumbling. The plastic bag falls out of her hands, and bright red apples tumble out, rolling every which way, but Hilda ignores them, catching onto Marianne before she can fall.

And then Marianne is in her arms, and it's not a dream, it's real, it's real, _real,_ and she's crying and laughing at the same time, and Marianne is too as she clings desperately to her, never letting go, never again.

"It's you. It's really you. It's really you." Marianne says over and over again, voice cracking with raw emotion. She's taller than Hilda remembers, face a little fuller, eyes a little brighter, but that shy, brilliant smile is still the same one that Hilda fell in love with those three years ago, and nothing's changed, nothing. "I always knew you'd come back. I-I knew. A-and now you're here I... I..."

"I love you," Hilda chokes out, right before Marianne leans down and captures her lips with a kiss.

Fire surges through her veins, and Hilda returns the kiss without a second thought. It feels like she's freefalling with the sun in her heart, a shooting star blazing through the rain and clouds. It feels like the clear blue sky after the rains finally stop. It feels _right_.

"I'm sorry it took so long," says Hilda when they separate. Marianne's face is flushed, eyes red with tears unshed, and Hilda's heart throbs so strongly in her chest that it physically hurts. "But I'm here now. And I'm never leaving. Never again."

"Then promise me." Marianne takes Hilda's hand and places over her chest, the beat of her heart matching in time with Hilda's. "You've never broken your word to me, ever. Promise me that whatever lies ahead, we'll face it together."

"I promise." An idea suddenly seizes Hilda. She pulls Marianne's hand back to hers and takes the ring and slips it onto her finger. 

A perfect fit.

"I promise. Now and forever."

Who knows what the future will bring, or if the sky will always be blue and clear for the both of them. But standing there, beneath the parting clouds and sun, Hilda watches Marianne place a trembling hand to her mouth before nodding again and again, tears flowing anew, even as her smile grows blinding. And at that moment, Hilda knows, whatever lies in store for them, whatever cloudy skies or rains that may storm their way, it'll all be alright, they'll be alright.

They'll weather this love together.


End file.
